


We Are Stars

by Ariablair



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariablair/pseuds/Ariablair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about fate.</p><p>It is a story about tiny tokens that come to tell a history, and discovering things when you were not looking.</p><p>This story is about searching. It is about signs, and soulmates. It is about serendipity.</p><p>It starts with a chance meeting, and goes on to involve a silk scarf, and a printed piece of music scattered across states, and one remarkable night. </p><p>But this is not a love story.</p><p>Until it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblin' at www.ariablair.tumblr.com

This is a story about fate.

It is a story about tiny tokens that come to tell a history, and discovering things when you were not looking. It is a story of how sometimes, things get lost, and no matter how hard you look, you cannot find them; how sometimes, things get lost, and they are so far gone that you give up looking. And how sometimes, those lost things are people, and sometimes, when you pause for a moment, you realise that the person who got lost was you.

This story is about searching. It is about signs, and soulmates. It is about serendipity.

This story takes place in Ohio, and Chicago, and New York City. It starts with a chance meeting, and goes on to involve a silk scarf, and a printed piece of music scattered across states, and one remarkable night. It is a story of two boys who become two men, and it is a story of the ways that the universe works. This story, like so many stories, is frustrating, and heartbreaking, and romantic as hell.

But this is not a love story.

Until it is.

*  
Sometimes when the snow comes, the city shuts down.

These are the parts they don’t tell you.

Sometimes when the snow comes, the shoes you loved yesterday seem to have a personal vendetta against keeping you upright, and the fur collar on your coat looks more like a rat-gone-wrong than a viable fashion choice. When the snow comes, New Yorkers get angry, and everyone seems to be rushing even more than usual, the only goal to get from warm office block to the body heat of the subway as fast as humanly possible.

When the snow comes, it is nothing like the movies.

It falls in drops, not flakes, and if it settles, sure, it’ll look beautiful for a moment, and make everything seem just a little bit quiet, but then it’ll delay your bus, or make you slip, or maybe just make your nose cold, and you’ll remember why sometimes you despise December.

Three years ago, Kurt Hummel had treasured the snow.

Fresh from small town Ohio, walking around New York City in the winter, from his dream school to his dream apartment, skipping along Broadway with show tunes playing through his earbuds, wondering how on earth did I get so lucky?, he had really, truly, loved it. The things he knew he deserved were finally happening, and all it had taken was New York City, and a million miles, and the strength to start again. And it had worked. Oh god it had worked.

But that was three whole years ago.

Everyone had warned him that eventually he would be desensitized to the charms of the city, but he hadn’t believed them. Racing along 34th street in the snow, though, he had to admit that they had been right.

When had that happened?

He dodged the tourists, swerving with a scowl around a group of teenage girls who had obviously heard that New Yorkers loved it if you just stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. And looked up.

Expecting civilization in midtown three days before Christmas probably hadn’t been his finest moment, he admitted internally, but he really had no choice. Between classes, and recitals, and his full time position talking Rachel Berry down from whatever metaphorical ledge she found herself on, he just hadn’t had time to buy any gifts. For the first time since he’d moved here, Kurt was trying to do the adult thing, and prove to his family that he was Grown Up And Responsible by inviting them to the city for Christmas. It had seemed like the best idea in August. Less so, he thought as he pushed his way in to the department store, now that their flight landed in a matter of hours.

The tinny festive sound track did nothing for his mood. Three years ago, he mused, he would have rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, and pretended to be above it all, but really he’d be sparkling at the thought of Christmas. It was, after all, a whole holiday practically dedicated to fairy lights, and glitter, and all those other things that were part of being Kurt Hummel.

But people change.

And now all he could do was make this ordeal as painless as possible, he thought as he darted towards the mens accessories department (the one benefit of NYADA’s compulsory dance classes? He could move fast). A new scarf for his dad, maybe, and then something (a wallet? Cufflinks?) for Finn. Then all he had to do was find a little token for Sebastian, a footnote to the main I-love-you, and he would be done.

And some things had not changed. Kurt Hummel still knew how to shop.

 

*

Blaine Anderson loved the snow. No matter how many times he visited the city, he never grew tired of the sight of Central Park under a blanket of white, and that feeling of silence-in-a-crowd that he hadn’t found anywhere else. He was freezing, granted, but it was Christmas, and some things are just bigger than the cold.

Blaine brushed the white flakes off his shoulders as he opened the door to the department store, recognizing the song playing immediately as it floated out, and began to hum quietly along. He shuddered as he closed the door behind him, the rush of warm air enveloping him like a perfect jigsaw hug. He’d bought most of his presents already, but he had hours to kill before his flight, and thought he might try to find something more for Dan. Just a little something to say “Thank you for letting me go to New York the week before Christmas to audition for a part we both know I wont get, and leaving you alone with my parents, and I really do love you, you know?”. Just…something like that.

He smiled at the thought of his boyfriend waiting for him back in Chicago, and had to stop himself from wishing the hours away until he’d be off the plane and ready to really begin his holiday. For now, Blaine was in his favourite city on earth, in the world’s greatest department store, buying a gift for the man he loved. And god he was going to enjoy it.

He headed straight for the accessories, kidding himself that Dan loved scarves, when everyone knew that really Blaine loved scarves, and Dan just loved Blaine. He dodged the tourists debating the finer points of warmth over fashion, darting his eyes quickly over the department, scanning for something he just had to buy.

He hadn’t even been thinking of gloves.

Every week day, Dan drove from their apartment to the planetarium where he worked. He spent the day inside, where it was always temperate, and then drove home. At the weekends, he had Blaine to keep him warm; fingers laced together, both hands squeezed in to one pocket. It was just how they worked. Dan didn’t need gloves.

But oh the gloves.

Blaine knew before he even touched them that the leather was softer than anything he owned. From where he stood, he could swear he saw a flash of velvet sneaking out from the lining, and he reached out to stroke them, grateful that he was one of those people who could get such joy from an inanimate object.

“Watch out!”

The voice snapped Blaine from his reverie as his hand collided with soft flesh, and no, that wasn’t a glove, that was a human, and where had he come from?

Blaine looked up, his fingers still teasing the bottom of the glove which was currently being tugged from his hand by this boy, who could be so pretty if he would just smile.

“Oh I’m sorry, here, take them, I’ll grab another pair”.

Blaine let go of the glove and smiled, a peace offering. Kurt faltered. Whoever this stupid overzealous stranger was, he was gorgeous. His hair was dark and curly, but somehow not wild. Instead it looked as if every strand had been placed where it fell. Kurt felt a warmth pooling in his stomach, and what was that? He took a step back.

“There isn’t another pair, hence the grabbing.”

Blaine screwed his face slightly at the stranger’s tone. It sounded forced, somehow, as if the irritation was something the boy had created as a defence rather than something he actually felt. Blaine wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation.

“You take them then”.

Blaine smiled again, and turned as if to walk away.

“Hey, wait”.

When Kurt looked back on this moment, he wouldn’t even remember deciding to speak. He was holding the gloves, and thinking about how relieved he would be to get out of this tourist trap, and then there was a shift, too small to even register, and he was asking this stranger to just turn around and give another second of his time.

“Wait…”

Kurt’s voice was softer this time, and Blaine spun back around.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would wear them anyway, no matter how I try to dress him like…well, me. You take them”.

Blaine raised an eyebrow.

“They were for your boyfriend? Mine too. And he doesn’t even wear gloves, like, at all, so please…”

He gestured towards the gloves, indicating for Kurt to just take them. Kurt smiled, and let himself meet Blaine’s eye for the first time. It was…disarming. He felt as if a question had been answered; a question he hadn’t even asked yet. Hadn’t even conceived.

They just looked at each other for a moment, and it occurred to Blaine how nice that was. How rare it was, actually, to just look at someone, without judgment or expectation. He picked up the gloves from where they had fallen among several similar pairs (none of which, he noted, had velvet lining. These gloves were Special), and held them out towards Kurt.

Kurt shook his head, fingering his scarf nervously (why did this stranger make him nervous? Good nervous.), but took the gloves from between Blaine’s fingers (and oh god that lining just snaking out was so soft). Instead of pocketing them, though, and turning to leave, he held them back towards Blaine.

“I just have this feeling that these gloves were meant for you.”

Blaine squinted. What?

“Its fate, right? I…without getting too deep…don’t think I’ve made anyone very happy lately. And now you’ve turned up, when I was reckoning on this being easy, and isn’t that a sign? You can’t fight fate…sorry what was your name?”

“Blaine”

“Can’t fight fate Blaine”.

Blaine smirked. He had always wished so hard he could believe in fate, and destiny, and everything happening exactly when it was supposed to. He had wished but never managed, and now this New York City stranger was holding out this mesh of leather and velvet as if it was a chance.

“And what makes you think fate didn’t stop me from arriving two minutes earlier because I was meant to convince you to take the gloves?” Blaine asked, relaxing in to himself now; enjoying himself a little bit.

“Do you believe in fate?” Kurt shot back, and the shake of Blaine’s head was so slight it was almost imperceptible, but Kurt was straight on it.

“A-ha! See! Fate has sent me, a believer, if you will, to make sure that you, with all your cynicism towards the power of destiny, do not let these gloves get away”.

Kurt picked up the gloves and handed them to Blaine with a flourish. He felt strangely alive, standing in the middle of a New York City department store (was he that distracted that he had almost forgotten how bad that was?), three days before Christmas, talking to a stranger about fate and destiny.

Blaine laughed, and accepted the gloves, his toes curling slightly as he took them and the leather pressed against his skin.

“Let me buy you a coffee then, to say thanks?”

Kurt blinked. Coffee. That was such a life-thing. Coffee was mornings with Sebastian, and stale kisses before they had time to brush their teeth. Coffee was Sundays in Brooklyn with Rachel, walking across the bridge talking about music, and old friends, and always dreams. Coffee was every single day, between classes, and after school. He knew coffee, and it just reminded him how much he did not know chance meetings with perfect strangers, or smiling in the midtown snow, or flirting in department stores with men who weren’t his boyfriend.

Kurt shook his head almost involuntarily. But it was true what they said about New York City: the lights could make you lonely.

“Come on, just a coffee. We both have boyfriends who we love, right?”

Kurt nodded.

“So just a coffee”.

Blaine’s face was so soft as he spoke. Kurt pulled his fingers through his hair and exhaled. This was ridiculous. He was desperately in love with Sebastian, and his family, who he hadn’t seen in months, arrived in a matter of hours, and this was New York. People didn’t have time to just drop everything and go for coffee with a gorgeous stranger. And if they did, the stranger would probably turn out to be crazy and Kurt’s poor dad would have to spend Christmas searching for his son’s remains, and wouldn’t that just ruin everything? So why wasn’t he walking away?

“I don’t know what you want me to say to you…” Kurt sighed as he spoke, and the result was a certain breathlessness, as if Blaine had caught him unawares and forced him to speak. That was kind of how Kurt felt, actually. Entirely…shaken.

Blaine pulled the thin piece of plastic holding the gloves together until it snapped. He took one and handed it to Kurt.

“Fate, right? Destiny? If it’s trying to show us something, isn’t it kind of our responsibility to let it?” Blaine knew he was being obnoxious, and let his tongue dart out from between his lips as he spoke, the gesture of a playful child, or a cheeky 22-year-old who thought he could still get away with such things.

“I suppose….” Kurt was smiling now.

“Just say yes”.

He did.

 

*

They walked a few blocks until they found a place that neither of them had been before. That was important, Kurt said. If this was an exercise in what-fate-can-do, it would be unfair for them to start in a place where one of them had a history.

And This Was An Experiment, Kurt had decided. This was not a date, or a new friendship, or anything like that. This was one chance meeting, and when it was over, they would both walk away, maybe having learnt something, but probably having just wasted an hour. This was a game of Fate now, and whatever was supposed to happen…would.

“So what do you do?” Blaine asked as he pulled the rickety chair from underneath the table.

Kurt shook his head.

“Uh-uh. I don’t think this is about us, I think this is about life, so no details. No surnames, no professions, no details at all. If fate wants us to know all that stuff, we’ll find out anyway”.

Blaine snorted, but nodded. Ok. That sounded fun.

“Ok, so…you have a boyfriend, right?”

“Careful…” Kurt advised, but he nodded.

“Do you want to get married?”

Kurt considered the question for a moment, pondering both his answer, and whether he should be answering at all given their ‘no details’ rule.

“Yeah…” he admitted eventually, and Blaine smiled.

“To him?”

Kurt shrugged his shoulders once.

“I don’t know, I’m young”.

Blaine understood that.

“I’m not allowed to ask how old, am I?”

Kurt grinned.

“Nice try. Do you? Marriage, I mean”.

“Yeah” he confessed.

“To…yours?”

Blaine nodded.

“He’s a great guy. I mean, he let me fly to New York the week before Christmas and leave him alone with my parents for three days…that’s a keeper, right?”

“So you’re from out of town?” Kurt asked before he could stop himself.

Blaine hestitated.

“Ok, youre right, don’t answer that” Kurt spoke quickly, and Blaine was surprised to find himself feeling relieved. It was nice to be free of detail, for once. For right now, he was just Blaine, who was from nowhere, and did nothing, and loved everybody and nobody, and that was…nice.

“No details…” Kurt continued.

“Where is your favourite place in the world?” Blaine blurted out, and Kurt looked surprised.

“The Wollman Rink, I think, in Central Park. I love that you can be surrounded by trees, and nature, and still see skyscrapers. I love that you can drink hot chocolate, and skate, and laugh, and I love that on a clear night you can see the stars”.

Kurt looked bashful, and Blaine racked his brain for something to say; something that would make Kurt keep on talking, and keep the red in his cheeks, and the smile playing across his lips.

“Stars?” Blaine asked

Kurt nodded.

“I kind of…believe in all that astrology stuff, hence the fate and destiny talk that got us here in the first place.”

He was interrupted by the waiter bringing their coffee. They busied themselves, stirring sugar into milky lattes, and sipping and mixing until their drinks were exactly right.

“So” Blaine asked again, licking the froth from his teaspoon, “Stars?”

“Oh right, yes. And this is the no-details version, remember. So I kind of believe in astrology, and the stars aligning, and all that stuff. I kind of believe that the stars are like the puzzle pieces, and one day, when they’re all in place, whether that be for a person or for the universe as a whole, the most incredible things will happen. And I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t agree with me, so please do share…”

He trailed off.

“I agree with the bit about alignment, and things coming together” Blaine began, leaning across the table and closer to Kurt.

“I wish I could believe in stars, and fate, and destiny, and I mean really believe, and be assured that one day, no matter how much I get it wrong or mess up, the stars will all end up in just the right place, and everything will be fine for me. I’m just…I’m not there yet. Like I said though, I do believe in the right elements all coming together. I do believe that it takes a whole combination of things to make something perfect, and I really do believe that sometimes perfect things can happen. But I think we, as humans, are the stars you talk about. We are the elements that have to move, and shift, and change, and we’re the ones who have to make sure we end up in the right place. It’s a puzzle, like you say. I just think we’re the pieces”.

Kurt didn’t realise he was staring until he forced himself to stop. He didn’t realise that his jaw had gone slack, or that his hands were gripping the edge of the table tightly.

“I think in a parallel world I’d be falling in love with you”.

Oh wow. He didn’t realise he was about to say that.

He pulled back from the table, knocking his knee into the underside and splashing coffee on to the tablecloth.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea where that came from”.

Blaine was shaking his head frantically, and wiping at the spilled coffee with his sleeve.

“Its fine, Kurt. You were just…its fine. Let me just pay for these and we should go”.

Blaine stood up and motioned for a waiter, while Kurt busied himself gathering his things.

“You’re right, I should get back…Sebastian will be wondering where I am”.

Because yeah. There was Sebastian. Who he loved.

Blaine handed the waiter a $20 bill, and turned his attention back to Kurt.

“Well Kurt, no surname, who has great taste in gloves, it was really great to meet you”.

Blaine held out his hand, and Kurt shook it quickly.

“You too. Thank you for the coffee. And enjoy the gloves!”

Kurt was already half way out of the coffee shop as he spoke, waving over his shoulder to the disarming stranger who had stolen away his evening, although admittedly not without permission. He stepped out on to the snow-dipped sidewalk, and suddenly all his irritations and worries from hours before came flooding back. He walked quickly, dodging the tourists, his steps pronounced to avoid slipping in the boots he had loved yesterday, and could not stand today. He was halfway down the steps to the subway when he reached up and realised his scarf was missing.

Shit.

For a tiny second, he considered cutting his losses and just going home. He thought of his warm apartment, and his waiting boyfriend, and felt his feet inching forward, desperate to just get there.

But then he thought of Marc Jacobs. He loved that scarf. Sighing, he spun on his heel, and began to walk back towards the coffee shop.

 

*

 

Blaine felt unbalanced as he walked towards Times Square. It was still early, and his flight wasn’t for hours, so he thought he might try and catch a show, or grab some food. The temperature had dropped, and he groped around in his messenger bag for the Macy’s carrier bag; surely Dan wouldn’t mind if he kept himself warm with the heaven-sent gloves?

Except…they weren’t there.

Shit. He must have left them on the table.

Blaine sighed. If he went back, he’d be too late for any 8pm curtains. Maybe, he thought wryly, this was fate’s way of telling him that the gloves were meant for Kurt after all.

But they were so beautiful. At least he had noticed while he was still in New York. He imagined Dan’s face when he presented him with the gloves; lit up, not because he loved them, but because Blaine did. And Dan loved Blaine.

Blaine turned back in the direction he had come, and tried to smile as he made his way back towards the coffee shop.

 

*

Kurt wasn’t paying attention as he strode across the room to the table they had been seated at. He wasn’t paying attention as he crouched down and retrieved his scarf from where it was wrapped around the leg of his chair. He wasn’t paying attention as he stood back up, and collided hard with a warm body.

With Blaine.

Kurt was struck dumb. Really?

Blaine held up the gloves in silence, justifying his return. Kurt nodded.

“We should do something”

Again, Kurt wasn’t aware he was about to speak until the words were out, but this time they were right.

Blaine was silent.

“We should do something” Kurt said again, and this time, Blaine took a step closer, and nodded, small, quiet.

“What did you have in mind?” he almost whispered, and Kurt didn’t even let himself question why his heart was dancing.

“I think that everybody, no matter who they are, should stay up all night in New York City once in their life”.

Blaine laughed, just one single chuckle, and Kurt felt warm.

“Me and you? Tonight?”

Blaine sounded confused, and Kurt wondered for a second if he had overstepped, and taken this wonderful thing from real to just…really weird. But Blaine was smiling, and yeah, Kurt thought, this was a good idea.

“Are we doing this?”

Blaine’s voice was still barely above a whisper, yet it was so clear to Kurt, even in the bustle of a busy coffee shop, in a busy city, on a busy night.

Kurt reached out and took Blaine’s wrist in his hand.

“Its like you said, Blaine. Just say yes”.

He did.


	2. A Conversation

They talked about music as they walked through Times Square. Blaine would mention a song, and Kurt would sing a line, and with no details or regaling of memories they began to know each other through the lyrics.

At 57th street, they passed a street vendor selling knock-off handbags, and the conversation tripped away from songs and in to fashion. Blaine admired Kurt’s style; Kurt preened and pretended not to be pleased, but glowed from the inside out.

At Columbus Circle, because they’d let it slip anyway, they talked about love. They talked about The First Time (for Kurt, it was Sebastian. For Blaine, once before), and about expectations, and about that crazy, inconceivable moment when they realised that everyone who had ever told them they were unloveable had been so so wrong.

They smiled, Kurt to Blaine, Blaine to Kurt, and gave silent thanks for that.

“What has been the one defining moment of your life so far?” Blaine asked as they stepped in to the park. They seemed to gravitate closer together, silently acknowledging the horror stories about the park after sunset.

Kurt smiled, remembering.

“No details, right?”

“No details” Blaine repeated.

“The end of my junior year of high school. We were in New York for a show choir competition, and through a combination of determination, peer pressure and sheer nerve, I ended up singing on the Gershwin stage with my best friend.”

Blaine whistled, impressed.

“It was one of those moments you read about in books, you know? I just knew something without any doubt when I stood there, and that had never really happened before. I knew who I wanted to be”.

“So you’re a singer?” Blaine tried his luck.

Kurt chuckled, and swatted at Blaine’s hand by his side.

“Was a singer. Can’t tell you if I am now”.

In all honesty, Kurt realised, he couldn’t answer that question truthfully even to himself. Lately, he had lost his passion. There had always been Something About Kurt Hummel, but in the past few months, that something had dulled to a sense of obligation. He sang because he was expected to, or because Rachel needed a duet partner, or because his place at NYADA was really the only thing keeping him in New York. Yes, Kurt sang, but if he was being completely honest, he hadn’t thought of himself as a singer in a long time.

“And you?” He shook himself, turning his attention back to Blaine.

“The most defining moment you’ve ever had?”

Blaine thought for a second, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Momentous, right? That doesn’t specify good. That could mean the most embarrassing thing if it was defining, right?”

Kurt nodded.

“Then mine was in high school too. I’d got it in to my head that I’d fallen desperately in love with this guy, and that the best way to show him was to sing to him…at his workplace. Which just so happened to be a store. He let me down gently, but I had never been so ashamed as when he basically told me to stop dreaming”.

“Then why that moment?” Kurt asked.

“Because of the things he said to me afterwards. He wrote me this amazing letter, telling me that sometimes it is the smallest moments that come to mean the most. He made me see that overt gestures mean nothing when they’re not accompanied with real feeling, and that tiny things executed with love are the real moments we should look out for.”

“That’s sweet”.

“Surprisingly so for him, actually. He ended his letter by saying that five years from then, give or take, when I had grown up and learned who I wanted to be, I’d meet someone who was just meant for me when I expected it the least. It sounded like a line just to make me go away, but I remembered it three years later when I met Dan. I wasn’t looking, but I found him and I just knew”.

Kurt’s chest felt as if it was contracting, tight and stiff and jealous of what he was hearing.

“It must be nice to be that sure of somebody”.

Blaine was taken aback. He felt as if Kurt had just shared something that went far beyond a ten word sentence to a stranger. The surprise must have shown on his face; Kurt retreated very slightly, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“It is” Blaine admitted.

Kurt wished he could find the words to explain. He loved Sebastian, honestly, he did, but it had never been the kind of love he’d secretly always hoped for. Their love was familiar; it was finishing each others sentences, and sharing kisses and an apartment and opinions. It was home. But it had never scared Kurt, like he’d heard love was supposed to. It had never made him question himself. It had never really hurt, and instead of feeling grateful, he felt cheated.

Sometimes, if he was honest, Kurt thought Sebastian might not be his big-love-story. And that scared him, because despite that, Kurt couldn’t imagine a life without him. Was it settling if you really did love the person? Was it compromising your happiness if you were happy? Kurt didn’t know. That was the problem, really. He just didn’t know anymore.

“I have a question for you now” Blaine said, steering the subject away from love, and finding someone, and feeling sure.

“Oh?”

“Your name?” Blaine asked, and it was as if Kurt’s laugh had risen from the very pit of his stomach and warmed the whole night.

“Oh that’s so funny, I completely forgot I hadn’t told you. I’m Kurt”.

“Blaine”.

Kut nodded.

“Its nice to meet you Blaine”.

Kurt’s voice was relaxed, even, calm. It was nice, he thought, to really meet somebody. It didn’t happen all that often in a city the size of New York, and it happened even less that just hours after meeting you’d be standing in the middle of Central Park with only the streetlamps for light, talking about love and life and knowing as if it was something that happened all the time.

This did not happen all the time.

*

Late night became early morning as Kurt and Blaine talked about the past. They talked about loss and longing, for the people they had left behind, and the people they themselves had once been. Kurt’s eyes grew heavy, and his breathing slow, but he refused to surrender to sleep. He felt like a parachute that had been lying dormant for a while on a flat surface. Now, for the first time in recent memory, a wind was trying to creep beneath him; trying to lift him up.

Kurt wanted to be lifted.

As 1am became 2am, they talked about the future (“No details” Kurt reminded Blaine. “No details” he repeated back.) There was only so much they could reveal without breaking their own golden rule, but they talked about dreaming, and dreaming of dreaming, and the hope that one day, maybe not so far from now, they could marry their boyfriends in any state they chose, in any city, in any cathedral, or church, or registry office. They talked about things that would be important to them one day, and things that already were. Kurt called Blaine an optimist, like it was something to be ashamed of. Blaine just smiled. Kurt deserved to discover for himself that it was a byproduct of contentment.

As the light began to change, they talked about right now. About Kurt and Blaine, in this park, in this little interlude-to-life. They sat on a bench, beneath a tree, beside an ice rink, underneath the stars, and they talked about chances.

The chances of winning the lottery, or being hit by a bus tomorrow, or getting struck by lightning.

The chances of meeting a stranger in a department store, and opening yourself up until your entire being feels as if it is pouring out of you, gravitating towards them like a light. Like hope, just emanating from your body, and you really have no idea why.

What are the chances?

Kurt called it serendipity.

Blaine could agree with that. Serendipity was not fate, or stars, or destiny. Serendipity was a fortunate accident; a pair of gloves with velvet lining, or a spare few hours in New York City three days before Christmas. Serendipity was timing, and chance. Just as easily as it had happened, it could have…not. 

* 

There was only one star left when they finally grew quiet. The sun was sneaking up, and Blaine glanced surreptitiously at his watch, desperate not to leave but ever aware that his flight wouldn’t wait. He turned to Kurt, who was crumpled by tiredness but still lovely, and opened his mouth to speak.

“You have to go, right?” Kurt cut him off.

Blaine nodded, hoping his face showed just how much he didn’t want to.

“You’re not going to give me your number,just to be my friend, are you?” Blaine asked, but Kurt was shaking his head before he could even finish the question.

“Don’t you think” asked Kurt “that sometimes we have to just accept and appreciate things for what they are? This has been…something. Really something Blaine, and I’ve told you things I haven’t said aloud in years, and that needed to be said. But how do you explain to your boyfriend that you spent a whole night baring your soul to a stranger, and it was freezing but you didn’t even notice the cold, and now this guy is just…a part of your life? How do I tell him that you know things about me that even he doesn’t?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow.

“I do?”

“When I moved to New York, I thought I was sure of everything I wanted. I wanted college, and love, and then a career, and all of it in this city. I thought just getting here was the hardest part of all that. I thought that if I could just get here, all those things I was so sure I needed would find me. That was three years ago Blaine, and I didn’t know that finding out what you wanted could also work in reverse. I thought once you knew, that was it. And I’m learning now that it isn’t. Because I just don’t know anymore. And I have no idea why I just told you that, but yes, now you know things about me that Sebastian doesn’t.”

“So you’re scared?”

Kurt nodded.

Blaine leaned forward, just slightly, and took Kurt’s wrist between his fingers.

“So am I. I left my home for college too, because things happened there that aren’t the kind of thing you ever get over. I was attacked just for loving who I loved. My parents didn’t get me; still don’t actually, and like you, I was sure that if I could just get out of there, everything would be fine. I’d find my place, and I’d know. And that was exactly what happened. I found a college I love, and a career that everyone always said was perfect for me. And I found Dan. I thought I knew what I wanted, and I was right, and that is scary too, Kurt”.

“Why?” Kurt asked.

“You believe in fate, and stars, and everything eventually ending up exactly where it is supposed to be, right?”

He didn’t wait for Kurt’s response before he carried on.

“Well I believe in us. Like I said, I think we control our own destiny, and isn’t that a terrifying thought? I love Dan, but what happens if one day he decides I’m not for him anymore? What if I’m not as smart as I hope I am, and my college doesn’t understand the point I’m trying to make in my work? What if I want a career where there aren’t any openings for me? Everything I rely on could crumble, Kurt, because humans control it, and humans change their minds. And I don’t know who I am without all of that. I don’t know who I am”.

Kurt slowly let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. He slid his wrist out from Blaine’s grasp, and linked their fingers together.

“How many details have you told me about yourself tonight Blaine?” Kurt’s voice was condescending, but playfully so, like he was about dispel every point Blaine had made, but still let him win.

“None?” Blaine sounded confused, but he was smiling, Kurt noted and that was good.

“Right, none. And yet this is what I know about you. You like Katy Perry, and Sara Bareilles, and you think I have great fashion sense, so I know you have taste”.

Kurt bumped his shoulder into Blaine’s and continued.

“You’re in love, and that says nothing about him and everything about you. You can give yourself entirely to a person and be scared that he won’t reciprocate, but you still do it. I mean, you’ve given an entire night to me and you don’t even know me. So generous, that’s another thing you are. You lit up at the sight of a pair of, admittedly fabulous, gloves. That tells me you haven’t lost your sense of wonder. Tiny things can still make you so happy. I asked you about your most defining moment, and you didn’t pick one that would endear you to me, or make you look exciting. You gave me the real answer, and that’s how I know you’re honest. And just now, when I told you I was scared? You didn’t owe me anything, Blaine, but you gave me comfort, and yet more truth. So now I know you’re brave, and you’re kind. And you don’t believe in fate, and that is how I know you’re weird”.

Blaine laughed, but the mist in his eyes gave him away. He was touched.

“Seriously, though. I know nothing about your boyfriend beyond his name. I don’t know where you go to college, and have no idea what your career plans are, but I feel like I know you. So next time you’re scared about a human changing their mind, remember that a stranger could see through all that. You’re still in there, I promise”.

There was a moment. Nothing moved, or so it seemed. Neither of them spoke. They just looked, eye to eye, Kurt to Blaine, one smiling first and then the other. Kurt ducked his head, turned away.

“What?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t know” Kurt admitted. “But something…”

“Yeah” Blaine’s voice came out like a breath. “Something for me too…”

Kurt grinned.

“And that’s why I believe in fate”. 

*

They were quiet as they walked back towards Times Square to find a taxi. What is left to say when you’ve just bared your soul to a person, and now have to say goodbye? Every now and then Blaine bumped his hip with Kurt’s, and Kurt would turn his head, and beam at Blaine, like a beacon. Blaine could hardly believe this was the same boy who had snapped at him in Macy’s. The same boy who could have been so pretty if he would just smile.

“Why?” Blaine asked, and Kurt looked inquisitive, but nodded, as if he knew what Blaine was asking.

“Why did I just spend a whole night with a stranger, walking around the city in the freezing cold when my boyfriend is waiting for me at home?” Kurt clarified. Blaine’s sheepish grin told Kurt he’d got the question exactly right.

“You reminded me of me three years ago” Kurt answered, because what was the point in being bashful now?

“You looked happy to be here, and you didn’t look aggravated by the tourists. New York at Christmas is magical, and you saw that, I could tell, and truth be told I wanted to see that too. I wanted to feel the way you looked. Just…happy”.

They’d reached Times Square now, and Blaine stopped walking, turning to Kurt, reaching out for his hand.

“I am” he said.

“Me too” Kurt replied, like it was a secret, something he shouldn’t be saying. Then again, stronger this time, “Me too”.

“So what now?” Blaine asked, hating to be the one who broke this up, but practically buzzing with the tension between them. This needed to end, or it didn’t, but something needed to happen.

“What now?” he repeated, rubbing his thumb slowly over Kurt’s knuckles.

“We just say goodbye and pretend this didn’t happen? I go home, and you go back to Sebastian, and we never tell anybody where we were, or what we said?”

Kurt sighed. There was a pause, static with electricity, like anything could happen if either one of them took just one step. It was only a matter of seconds before Kurt spoke, though it felt like forever.

“Kiss me” he said.

Blaine gulped.

And then he did. 

*

They were smiling when they broke apart. Smiling, and embarrassed, and consumed by this new feeling that something had just happened, despite morals and circumstance, because it needed to. Blaine uncurled his fingers from the hair at the nape of Kurt's neck, laughed, ducked his head.

“So now I just...go?” He asked, turning to leave.

Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

“Actually, I have a better idea”. 

*

They chose Kurt’s scarf simply because it was the only thing he had with him. It was Marc Jacobs, and so beautiful, and he’d be sad to see it go, but Kurt was caught in the moment now. He’d do it, no question.

“So you write your name and number on the tag and then…?” Blaine asked, throwing himself into whatever Kurt was doing here, desperately trying to forget that five minutes ago he’d been kissing a boy who wasn’t Dan on a New York street corner.

“Then tomorrow morning, I sell it to a thrift store. If this scarf finds its way back to you, we know what happened tonight meant something.”

“I think it meant something anyway” Blaine said quietly. Kurt lifted Blaine’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

“Me too, obviously. But something more. Like…a meant to be together kind of something”.

Oh.

“And do you think…that?” Blaine asked, not sure even as he said it that he wanted to know the answer.

Kurt shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m not letting myself think about it. It’s up to fate now Blaine. Now we need to find something of yours, to put your number on”.

“I don’t even live in the same state as you!” Blaine protested, but as he spoke he was already rifling through his bag, discarding things as unsuitable as soon as he touched them.

“What about this?” Kurt asked, pulling a piece of sheet music from between Blaine’s fingers, lightly grazing his skin. There would be a cut, Blaine thought. Something to prove this really happened.

“It isn’t mine” Blaine answered. “First thing tomorrow that goes back to the music library.”

Kurt lit up.

“Then it’s perfect. Look, I’ve picked up the second page. I don’t even know the title of the song. I don’t even know if it is a song. You write your number…” he placed the pen in Blaine’s hand “here. And tomorrow morning, you take it back to the library. If it falls into my hands, somehow, a million hours from here, we know”.

Blaine smiled, and Kurt clapped his hands excitedly. It was ridiculous. Yeah, it was perfect.

Blaine scrawled his number quickly, placing the music back in his bag before Kurt could catch a glimpse. Kurt grabbed his hand again, massaging it softly with his own. They were quiet for a second, then two, then a few more. It was like they didn’t need to speak. A taxi screeched past, and Blaine was snapped out of the moment. His mind flew back to Chicago, and Dan, and reality, where this-did-not-happen. Kurt saw the transition. He saw the light in Blaine’s eyes change, and felt his grip loosen. But that was fine. Kurt took back his hand.

“I’ll be seeing you, you know” Kurt broke the silence.

“I hope so. I think.”

Kurt’s heart contracted at Blaine’s honesty. This was not easy, he knew, for either of them. But it had been so…something. He smiled.

Kurt stepped closer to the edge of the sidewalk and threw his arm out towards an approaching taxi. It ground to a halt beside them, and Kurt opened the door, never once breaking eye contact. It was as if he was trying to remember every detail, Blaine thought. It was as if he was prolonging this moment in case it was the last one they got.

Blaine lifted his hand to wave.

“Cant fight fate, Blaine” Kurt said as he climbed into the cab and softly pulled the door closed behind him.

And then he was gone.


	3. A Moment of Guilt

Blaine’s What-have-I-done phase lasted the whole of the plane ride. He tried to sleep, and when he woke up it was a dull, distant ache, until he rifled through his bag for some gum, and saw his own number scrawled on a page of music, and had to close his eyes to stop the world from spinning.

It lasted as he cleared customs, and tried to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It lasted as he wrapped his arms around Dan, and burrowed into his neck, and promised never to leave him again.

“You ok?” Dan asked, holding Blaine at arms length, and Blaine didn’t believe in God, but he prayed that Dan couldn’t see just from looking what he had done.

“I just missed you”.

Blaine pulled Dan back to him, holding their bodies close together, trying to convince himself that this was it, and this was right, and this was home.

There was only one way out of this, he decided as Dan started rubbing tiny comforting circles into his shoulder blade. When he returned the music, he’d just have to tell them the second page got lost. He’d hide it somewhere it would never be found, or maybe just throw it away, and he’d feel guilty for an hour or so, he was sure. He’d feel bad on behalf of a stranger who became…something, and he’d feel bad that this was even a situation, but then he’d forget, probably, and everything would be right again.

The thought buoyed him as Dan took his hand and lead him from the airport.

Yeah. That was what would happen.

Then all of this would be done.

* 

Kurt should have learnt by now that if he wanted to keep something a secret, the least effective course of action would be to tell Rachel Berry.

“You KISSED HIM?” she screeched, and Kurt was sure he didn’t imagine the silence that fell over the deli.

“We are not doing this here” he hissed, draining the last of his coffee and throwing down a $20 bill. He was half way out the door before Rachel caught up, still struggling with her coat as they stepped out in to the frost. The snow from last night was melting now, Kurt noticed, and that made his heart twist a bit in his chest. If the snow melted, nobody would see the footprints they had left.

If the snow melted, Kurt feared, so might the memory.

“Kurt, sorry ok?” Rachel grabbed his sleeve, and Kurt closed his eyes, conceding that he’d have to tell the details now.

He nodded, just once.

“Yes, I kissed him…and please don’t screech again Rachel”.

She looked sheepish. Another screech was exactly what she had been planning. It was no secret that Kurt’s best friend and his boyfriend were not each other’s biggest fans. Rachel found Sebastian insincere, and sleazy, and selfish. Sebastian thought Rachel was an attention seeker who thrived on drama rather than real emotion. The irony, Kurt thought, was that in some ways they really weren’t that different at all.

“I’m sorry” she placed a hand on Kurt’s arm. “Please carry on”.

He told the whole story, starting with snow and gloves, and ending with scarves, and sheet music, and a single star.

Ending with a kiss.

It was a testament to what-had-happened that even Rachel Berry managed to keep quiet as he spoke. A few times she opened her mouth as if to speak, but just looked, dumbfounded, instead, and thought better of saying anything at all.

“So today we need to take this scarf…” Kurt fingered the silk around his neck “to a thrift store, and get this whole thing started”.

His stomach fluttered as he spoke. It was that strange phenomenon of saying something out loud; it always made it feel more true. He was really doing this.

“What about Sebastian?” Rachel’s voice was like an anchor to reality, and Kurt resented her for a second. He was quite enjoying the feeling of floating that had been a constant since the night before. He loved Sebastian, probably, but right now he didn’t need reminding of that.

“I love Sebastian”.

Kurt may not have felt guilty, but he knew he sounded it, and Rachel’s raised eyebrow did nothing to comfort the barely-there-but-still-something feeling that he was making a mistake. That he was about to begin something, or continue something, really, that he should leave well alone. He absently rubbed at the scarf draped around his shoulders.

Now, he thought. He had to do it now before something convinced him to retreat, and forget this hopeless fantasy.

“I have to do this Rachel” he said.

Rachel’s eyes were bright, and she bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet as she nodded.

 

“Lead the way…” She gestured as she spoke.

He did.

*

Blaine rarely slept in the afternoon, but somehow sitting on his bed for a second became sitting on his bed for an hour, and then he thought he’d lie down, and maybe close his eyes, just for a moment. Just a small reprieve.

It was only when he woke 4 hours later, the sun going down outside his window, that he realised he had fallen asleep.

His eyes were dry as he prised them open, cursing himself for falling asleep in contacts yet again.

“Dan?” He called, his voice rough with sleep. He didn’t even know why he was calling, really. He just felt disorientated, sleep crumpled, and kind of in need of a hug. There was no reply. Blaine reluctantly uncurled his limbs and stretched. He pulled himself up from the bed and padded towards the living room.

“Dan?” He called again, although the darkened apartment and general sense of emptiness told Blaine that nobody was there. He switched on the light, and rubbed his eyes to ease himself into the brightness. Dan had left a note on the dining table, scribbled. Blaine grinned as he picked it up, and was overcome with a rush of love for his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who would leave a note rather than waking him up; who would probably have gone to find dinner, who pretended for Blaine’s sake to love stupid things like bow ties and Katy Perry, and scarves.

Blaine didn’t have to pretend. He loved Dan entirely.

Dan’s handwriting was careful, as if he had taken care over even a memo to his boyfriend. That, though, was part of Dan’s charm. He took care over everything.

Babe,

Popped to the office to pick up some work. I thought since you missed me so much I could work from home until New Year, to give us back some of the time we haven’t had lately.

Blaine clutched the note to his chest. Perfect.

I’ll grab something for dinner on my way back. Hope you slept well.

Love you,

Dan x

Ps. I took your music, since I’m passing the library anyway. The chances of you waking up in time to return it were looking slim! X

Blaine read the postscript twice. He reached for his satchel and scrambled around, hoping…hoping what? That the sheet was there? That it wasn’t?

He didn’t know.

Alright fate, he thought, dropping his head into his hands.

Game on.

*

The first thrift store they came across was tucked away in the East Village. It was like a treasure trove of things that fashionable New Yorkers had once adored, but, like so many things that were once loved, had eventually been discarded.

The owner believed, or so he told them, that the store was where silk and lace and designer handbags came to be united at last with their rightful owners. Here, in a tiny storefront in the East Village, somebody could find the dress they had dreamed of, or fall for a pair of shoes they never knew they were looking for.

These discarded clothes were supposed to be found, the owner told Rachel and Kurt with sincerity. There was somebody out there meant for each jacket, each bow tie, each hat.

Each silk scarf.

And that, he told them, was why he had called the store Kismet.

*

As night fell over Chicago, Blaine wrapped himself around his boyfriend and tried to forget the taste of Kurt on his tongue. He tried to forget the snow, and the single star, and he tried to forget that a song he used to sing would never be just that again.

Every time he so much as heard it now, he’d remember Christmas, and a boy with a smile that could light up a city. Now, he thought, every time somebody took those particular sheets from that particular music library, they’d be holding a piece of his history. They could sing the introduction, soar through the first verse, and never know. And then they’d flip the page, and see a phone number scrawled in black pen, and maybe they’d wonder who Blaine was, and fumble over the notes while they read this handwritten addition, but then they’d just keep singing. They’d keep singing, never knowing that in that one piece of paper, they held a whole night. A whole, perfect night.

He decided not to sing it anymore.

*

As night fell over New York City, Kurt powered up his laptop, and typed ‘Music libraries USA’ in to google.

He wasn’t going to look for Blaine, he promised himself. He just wanted to know what he was up against. The number was in the thousands.

It would be only rational, Kurt thought, to put all of this out of his head right now, before anything more came of it. He’d kept to his side of the agreement; somewhere in the East Village, a quirky old man was locking up a store with Kurt’s Marc Jacobs scarf hanging up inside. Maybe, thought Kurt, that was as far as it would ever go.

It wasn’t though, something told him. It didn’t feel over.

He thought of Blaine that night as Sebastian kissed down his body. The hands pulling at his hair were Blaine’s, and the hips he clung to were Blaine’s, and as Kurt cried out and collapsed against Sebastian’s sweat-soaked chest, all he saw and felt and tasted was Blaine.

“I’ll find you” he whispered, and he wasn’t aware he’d said it aloud until Sebastian mumbled “Mmm?”

“Lucky I found you” Kurt corrected himself, and he felt Sebastian smile against his temple.

“Go to sleep” Sebastian muttered, letting his eyes droop closed.

Kurt lay awake for hours, thinking about chances, and destiny, and Blaine. Through it all, Blaine.

It was almost morning by the time sleep claimed him. Before he succumbed, and closed his eyes, Kurt noticed that they’d forgotten to close the curtains. The city lights were distant, but bright, and Kurt thought of all the people in Manhattan, and all the adventures, and all the beginnings that could be happening right now.

It was comforting, he thought, to know that even as he lay here motionless, life was happening.

Outside, it was snowing again. A whole new coat of white, shrouding the city once again in quiet.

*

That was December.

That was December, and in December Blaine felt heavy and distracted. He thought too much, and clung to Dan like a limpet, and every morning when he woke up, he hoped it would finally be the day that he didn’t think of stranger-kisses, and Kurt’s stupid smile.

That finally happened one morning in early January. He’d been awake a few hours before he realised he hadn’t once thought about the curve where Kurt’s neck met his shoulder. He hadn’t thought about the bench beside the ice rink, or Kurts “I’ll be seeing you, you know”.

He hadn’t thought about the gloves discarded at the back of his closet.

Of course, as soon as he realised this he was consumed with Kurtkurtkurt for the next hour, but the next morning, the absence of the memories took longer to hit, and the inevitable moment when he remembered was…less, somehow.

One Tuesday in February, he didn’t think of Kurt at all.

It was three whole days before he remembered, and even then his breath only shook for a second when he realised.

He held Dan a little less tightly that night. Held him a little less tightly, but let himself love a little bit more.

Blaine was going to be fine.

*

It was early March when Rachel burst into Kurt’s apartment brandishing a letter and looking like her smile would pop right off her face if it grew any wider.

“Stop what you are doing and listen to this” she demanded, and Kurt could not help being intrigued by her obvious excitement. This was Rachel Berry, admittedly, and her tendency to get excited over animal print sweaters and headbands had not changed, but Kurt knew her well enough to recognise the different stages of her hysteria, and this was threatening to head off the scale if she didn’t spit it out soon.

Kurt reached out to take the letter from her hand, but Rachel snatched it back and slapped away his hand.

“Let me tell you” she whined, not waiting for an answer before carrying on.

“Every year, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra choose two, just two Kurt, final year NYADA students as guest vocalists in one of their first Spring concerts. I half forgot I even auditioned, among final recitals and the end of year show, but they want me, Kurt. They chose ME!”

Rachel didn’t stop for breath until she hurled herself at Kurt and threw her arms around his neck. Kurt desperately tried to think of something cutting and cynical to say, but the truth was he was just genuinely, simply, happy for her. He laughed into her shoulder and pushed her back so he could look at her as he spoke.

“I’m so proud of you” he half squealed, and for just a second he felt like the Old Kurt Hummel. The one who let himself get excited.

“I’ll be there, obviously” he continued, and Rachel squeezed his hand and smiled shyly.

“I was thinking…you should bring Sebastian”.

Kurt returned the squeeze. It was a peace offering, he knew. Rachel and Sebastian may never be best friends, but she was trying. She was trying for him, and Kurt felt a whole layer of tension he didn’t know he was holding just melt away.

“He’d love that” Kurt answered.

In all actuality, Kurt had no idea if Sebastian would even agree to go. Even if he did, he would probably fidget, and tap his foot, and whisper in Kurt’s ear throughout. Kurt was determined to get him there, though. He was determined to show Rachel all of the reasons he loved Sebastian.

Because he did.

*

It was almost April when Dan came home with the tickets.

It was just starting to get warmer outside, and Blaine had opened the windows for the first time in a long time. Dan grinned as he walked up the path and heard his boyfriend’s voice drifting out from between the flapping curtains. He sounded beautiful. Always, so beautiful.

“Hey Blaine?” Dan called as he unlocked the door, and as Blaine popped his head around the doorframe of the bedroom, Dan was hit by a wave of just….loving this man.

Blaine smiled.

“I have something for you” Dan said, holding out the two rectangular pieces of paper in his hand. Blaine took them, studying them quizzically.

“You know you always said that whoever was first, whichever Warbler was the one to lead the way, you’d be there?”

Blaine nodded, twisting his face into an adorable expression that was a cross between daring-to-get-excited and still-quite-confused.

“Trent asked me not to tell you until he knew we could go…but he did it. He got the New York Phil gig…he’s the one boy they picked, Blaine!”

And then Blaine was screaming. He was jumping, and he was hugging Dan, and maybe he was crying, just a little bit, because Trent, who was so kind hearted, and talented, and a Warbler was singing with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, and Blaine got to be there, and share that.

“Wait...who’s the girl? Do we know her?” Blaine asked. The closer they inched to the success, the smaller the theatre industry seemed to become, and usually it was the same names Blaine heard mentioned over and over again as the ones to watch.

“I don’t think so. A girl called Rachel Berry?”

Blaine shook his head. A new name…interesting. She’d be incredible, he was sure. The NYADA cohort were revered all over America; feared and idolised by fellow performers from other schools.

It didn’t even occour to him to worry about returning to the city. For the first time since December, the mention of New York did not conjure up images of Kurt. No, this was about Trent, and friendship, and celebrating that the first of his Warbler brothers was about to break through.

He couldn’t wait to get there. For the first time since Christmas, he couldnt wait to get back.

*

790 miles away, in a thrift store in the East Village, a man took his purchases to the register. He was a tall man, probably in his early thirties. His hair was curly, and he wore a sweater vest over jeans. His face was kind.

He bought a book of Shakespeare plays, despite already owning them all. He bought a blazer, dark blue and worn, and a pile of scarves, picked up seemingly at random.

“That’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” The shopkeeper remarked, fingering a particular scarf absently as he folded it and placed it in the bag.

“I wouldn’t really know” the man admitted.

“I’m not really one for fashion. I teach at a youth theatre…all this stuff is just for costumes”.

“Oh well, this will make a great costume” he gestured into the bag.

“It’s Marc Jacobs…a strange story actually. I got the distinct feeling that the boy who brought it in didn’t want to part with it. It seemed like he loved that scarf, you know?”

“Well I hope it serves my kids well, then”, the man answered, looking pointedly at his watch.

“I’m sorry, I’d love to stay and talk but I have to catch a flight”.

“Where did you say you teach?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Chicago” the kind looking teacher replied.

And so it began.


	4. A Concert

It was November of his freshman year when Kurt Hummel stuck his head tentatively around the door of a classroom and first saw Sebastian Smythe. It wasn’t his looks that first piqued Kurt’s attention, although he was admittedly very attractive, nor was it the brand new Alexander McQueen vest he wore over his stylishly crumpled shirt. It was the fact that there he stood, holding court in front of an entire group of students, telling a story about being gay, and not only was he not being vilified, they actually seemed to be lapping it up.

Kurt crept quietly in and let the door click shut behind him. He listened to Sebastian speak for a full twenty minutes about a guy he had been pursuing, watching as the gathered group laughed because it was hilarious and not because they thought Sebastian was a joke. Kurt didn’t even give a second thought to the fact that talking non-stop about yourself for twenty minutes suggested a certain self-centredness; he was too busy laughing along to care.

It was a revelation.

When the bell rang signaling the end of the free period, and the group began to disperse, Kurt adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder, took a deep breath, and walked over to where Sebastian was packing away his things. He waited a moment for the other boy to look up, and dipped his head when their eyes met, embarrassed suddenly.

“I’m Kurt” he offered, holding out his hand.

Sebastian nodded, and linked his fingers with Kurt’s tighter than was strictly necessary; smiled like he’d won a prize.

“Sebastian” he replied, and Kurt said “I know”.

*

By late December they were quite the twosome. They would hit bars together, under the guise of Sebastian teaching Kurt the ways of the world, and Kurt would sip his drink slowly and watch as his new friend flirted his way around the men, sexual orientation almost irrelevant. If it were him, Kurt thought, he might do it differently. Sebastian’s methods tended to involve an aggressive pursuit, often in the form of a handshake followed by his tongue meeting theirs, and although it mostly seemed to work a treat, Kurt craved a little bit of romance. But what did he know?, he thought as he watched Sebastian score for the umpteenth time. He’d never done this before. Maybe this was just the way it was supposed to go.

By January Sebastian’s frankly scary confidence had began to rub off on Kurt, and he began to date guys himself. There was Jason from his History of Music class, and Tyler the voice major who professed to be straight in public but still loved holding Kurt’s hand. They were sweet, and attractive, and on each of their dates Kurt smiled and smiled until his cheeks hurt from the effort, and then he’d lean in and kiss them and they always kissed back. But then the night would end, and they would leave, and Kurt would feel just as empty as he did before. Something wasn’t landing, wasn’t right. He always gave up after a few dates; always went back to Friday nights watching Sebastian charm his way around a bar. Kurt was comfortable here, he thought. There was nothing to worry about, and he knew that at the end of the night Sebastian would untangle himself from whatever lithe dancer he’d been wrapped around and leave with Kurt; they’d stay up talking, spend the next day just hanging out. It was nice, Kurt thought, to have a friend who understood him.

It was February when it happened; Valentines day, and wasn’t that a cliché? It was late when they arrived back at Sebastian’s apartment, and Kurt settled in at his end of the sofa while Sebastian uncorked a bottle of wine.

It took about half a glass for the sadness to hit, and about ten minutes after that for Sebastian to notice.

“You ok?” he asked, and Kurt was surprised, as for some reason he always was when Sebastian’s tender side came out.

“Yeah. It’s just…Valentine’s day” Kurt admitted. “All these people are celebrating their love for one special person, and I’ve barely even had a boyfriend. I just get sad…”

Kurt hadn’t noticed Sebastian putting down his wine glass and moving closer. He hadn’t noticed the look on his best friend’s face, so he flinched when Sebastian took his hand.

“I just wish somebody could feel like that about me” Kurt whispered, and Sebastian lifted Kurt’s fingers to his lips, and kissed his knuckles, and said “Somebody already does”.

Kurt fell asleep in Sebastian’s bed that night. He felt Sebastian’s tongue tangled with his own, and came apart under Sebastian’s hands, and when he woke up, he felt fuller somehow.

As Spring passed, they fell in to something and began to call it love.

*

But that had been three whole years ago. Three years of conceding points to keep Sebastian calm, and making excuses with his friends because his boyfriend couldn’t quite make the effort, and, admittedly, really great sex but not much more. Three long years, and Kurt was tired. His heart felt like it was crumbling under the weight of a million tiny stress fractures; like one more blow might break him.

The blow came the night of Rachel’s concert.

*

“It’s just two hours of your life” Kurt pleaded. “Please, for me, will you come”.

Sebastian sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he paced the box room.

“Kurt, Rachel hates me. I hate all this musical theatre stuff, she isn’t my friend, why would I go?”

He sounded genuinely confused, and that made Kurt angry rather than placating him.

“For me” he almost-screamed, and Sebastian retreated, holding his hands up in surrender.

And then, a whisper this time: "I can't do this anymore".

“Can’t do what?” Sebastian asked, reaching his hand out or Kurt’s wrist, which he swiftly pulled back.

“This, Sebastian”. He gestured between them, watched the realization appear on Sebastian’s face, felt oddly proud.

“You're breaking up with me because I wont go to a concert with you?” Sebatian asked, incredulous.

“No” Kurt corrected him “I’m not breaking up with you right now because honestly I don’t have time, and we need to talk about it. But when I get back from Rachel’s concert, which yes, you’re right, thank you, I should go to alone, we will be talking about it. And for the record, if we do end up breaking up, it won’t be because you didn’t come to a concert with me. It’ll be because love shouldn’t be this hard Sebastian. It’s about compromise and you don’t give me any, and it’s about happiness, and I lost mine a long time ago”. Kurt spoke without thinking, without breathing almost, and was panting by the time he stopped.

Sebastian looked at him, his face cold, unmoving.

“But I love you” he said.

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe not” Kurt told him, gathering his jacket and bag from the floor. He took a breath, felt calm wash over him.

“Lets talk later”.

Kurt made himself brush a soft kiss across Sebastian’s cheek as he left the room. He forced himself not to cry as he arranged his bag on his shoulder, slung the jacket over the crook of his arm.

He knew it was over.

*

Kurt walked quickly down 72nd to the subway station, hoping that if he kept moving, and stopped thinking, he’d be able to ignore the gravity of what he may have just done. He swiped his metro card and half-glided down the stairs to the platform, which was full of city commuters making their way downtown after work.

Kurt tapped his foot impatiently, desperate to just get to the venue and be with people he knew, eve if he couldn’t quite call them friends. He surged forward with the crowd as the train pulled in, and crowded into the carriage, his back pressed against the doors as they closed. The train pulled out and Kurt breathed. Despite the drama that insisted n arising in his personal life, this night was about Rachel, who against all expectation had become his best friend, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

*

Blaine was supposed to meet Dan at the hotel. His boyfriend had taken an earlier flight for work, and Blaine was supposed to be there in time for a pre-concert dinner, but his flight was delayed, and then it took forever to get a taxi, and of course the rush hour traffic was in full swing.

Which was how Blaine found himself at the 72nd Street subway station, having abandoned his cab, and his dinner plans.

“I’ll meet you at the theatre” he half-shouted into Dan’s voicemail, trying to raise his voice above the volume of the traffic as he rushed down the steps to the platform.

He just missed the train.

*

Hummel. I’m on Rachel Berry’s guest list” Kurt said to the box office clerk, who smiled kindly as she began rifling through the box of tickets.

“Two of you?” she asked, holding up the tickets, and Kurt felt his heart pinch in his chest, his face fall.

“Oh um…no. Just me, now”.

The clerk smiled again, something in her eyes letting Kurt know that she knew the feeling.

“I’ll tell you what” she spoke quietly, leaning towards him conspiratorially “I can move you to the circle, to a better seat, if you’d like? We have much better availability for single attendees”.

Kurt cringed internally, but knew she meant well.

“Yes, please” he said quickly, desperate to keep his embarrassment to a minimum. He’d been to plenty of events alone, of course, but never had there been a second ticket waiting with his, making his rejection obvious to anyone who was witnessing it.

She took out a marker pen and quickly changed the seat number on his ticket. The thought of not having to look at an empty seat beside him buoyed Kurt as he walked away from the desk, smiling at the attractive guy behind him, admiring his dark blonde hair and almost flawless fashion sense.

“Anderson” the guy said as he stepped up to the desk.

“They’re under my boyfriend’s name. Anderson”.

“First name?” the clerk asked, and Kurt was too far away to hear the man say “Blaine”.

*

Kurt peered over the balcony to where he should have been sitting to see if he could make out anyone he knew. The majority of their friends were scattered around the auditorium, but each performer had been given a guest list so it was entirely possible that Rachel’s family were sitting down below.

He tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the empty seats in the middle of the fourth row. He should have been there, he thought, holding hands with Sebastian, excited to watch his best friend sing. Instead he was sitting alone, in an admittedly better seat, but hoping it wasn’t true that momentous evenings lost all their meaning without someone to share them with.

The last of the crowds were filing in now, and Kurt couldn’t see anyone he recognized, so he sunk back in the plush red seat and flicked through the playbill.

The male soloist was a boy called Trent he only vaguely knew. They’d auditioned for the same shows; been to a few of the same parties, but Kurt knew nothing about him beyond the fact that he was supposed to be great. His lack of jealousy stung for a moment; Kurt wanted to care that it wasn’t him up there, he really did, but the passion just wasn’t there right now. Kurt sighed. People found inspiration all the time, he told himself. It would come back. Something had to give, though, he thought. He glanced once more down at the empty seats. Maybe, he thought, Kurt Hummel just wasn’t supposed to be part of a pair.

* 

The warning bell was ringing as Blaine tumbled through the door of the theatre and spotted Dan waiting in the lobby.

“Hey, sorry” he gasped out, lightly kissing Dan’s cheek and dragging him towards the auditorium entrance.

“It’s fine, we have time. Wes and Nick are in the circle somewhere, they say they’ll see you at intermission” Dan said, rearranging Blaine’s hand as they walked so that their fingers were intertwined, rather than crushed beneath Blaine’s vice grip.

“Where do we go?” Blaine asked the usher, flashing the tickets in her direction. She glanced over at the seats and frowned.

“You’re just there in the fourth row, towards the middle. Is it just the two of you?”

Blaine confirmed it was.

“Ok” she sighed “I guess the two for the seats next to you are running late, but we’ll have to start. Enjoy the show guys”.

She shone her torch, unnecessary in the light, towards the empty seats, watching as Blaine and Dan pushed through the rest of the row and settled just in time to see the curtain rise and the lights go down.

*

Kurt had hightailed it to the stage door as soon as the curtain fell. He wanted to be the first to see Rachel; wanted to be the first to congratulate his best friend on what had been, by all accounts, a flawless performance.

“Excuse me…” his voice was apologetic as he maneuvered around the older couple waiting for autographs.

“I’m not sure you can just walk in there…” the gentleman began, and Kurt smiled.

“I’m with Rachel Berry”.

The words felt good in his mouth; to his ears. He knew it wouldn’t be the last time he was welcomed at a stage door just for knowing her, but it was the first, and he already knew it was a feeling he could get used to.

“Oh pass on our congratulations” the woman enthused, “She was so good”.

“Yeah”, Kurt agreed, “She really was, wasn’t she?”

He smiled his goodbye and was waved through by the security on the door.

“She’s on the 4th floor, room 6” he called after Kurt.

“Thanks” Kurt turned around and beamed, pressing the button for the elevator as he did.

Rachel was waiting when he reached the sixth floor, launching herself at Kurt before he’d even fully stepped out of the elevator. Her stage makeup was barely clinging on to her face, ravaged by the heat of the lights and, Kurt guessed, probably some tears, but she had honestly never looked more beautiful.

“Congratulations” he breathed into her neck, and he felt her body shake with delighted laughter.

“Thank you. I was great wasn’t I?” she asked sincerely, pulling back until he was far enough away for her to look in to his eyes.

“You really really were” Kurt promised as he guided her towards the open door of her dressing room-her dressing room, the first professional dressing room of her career- and closed the door behind them.

“I had to manouvere around your legion of fans at the stage door”

“Well why didn’t they come up?” Her voice was confused, and Kurt softly grabbed her wrist.

“People we don’t know, Rach. Stranger fans!”.

Rachel’s squeal was interrupted by a tap at the door, and when it swung open her dads and Tyler-from-voice-class were waiting, just giving her an excuse to re-start the squeal at a slightly higher pitch.

Kurt knew he should get away before the calgary descended. He’d re-join his friends wherever they were going later, but first he had to talk to Sebastian. It was done, and that was not the kind of burden Kurt could keep to himself any longer.

“Hey Rach, I need to…head” He hoped she picked up on the inflection in his voice. She was the only one who knew about his issues with Sebastian, and even that was only by default when he’d refused to come to the show.

She leaned away from Tyler’s embrace, and oh, Kurt thought, maybe the straight thing wasn’t just an act. He’d have to keep an eye on that.

“Will we see you later?” she asked.

“Definitely…I just have to…do something first”.

Rachel smiled knowingly.

“We’ll be at my place. That way everyone can crash if they drink too much to go home and the freshmen can hang out without worrying” She glanced at Tyler, who Kurt remembered was only 20. Making plans around him? Maybe Rachel cared more than Kurt had realized.

“Ok, I’ll text you when I’m on my way…bye Berry’s…see you later Tyler”.

Even the thought of breaking up with Sebastian, because he couldn’t sugar coat it, that was what he was on his way to do, couldn’t dull Kurt’s high as he walked back out to the elevator. He pressed the call button, and stepped in as the door slid open.

“Hey hold the elevator?” he heard a call from down the corridor, so quickly jammed his back against one of the doors to stop it from closing. It was the blonde guy from the box office queue, running towards him from the direction of what Kurt assumed was Trent’s dressing room. Gorgeous, Kurt thought, because he could allow himself to think that now without feeling guilt about his ever-failing relationship.

“Thanks” the guy breathed out, darting into the elevator, and Kurt stepped back, letting the doors close.

“Are you a friend of Rachel?” the guy asked.

“The very best” Kurt nodded as he spoke, and the hot-elevator-guy smiled.

“Congrats. She was great”.

“Thanks, she really was right? So do you…know Trent?” 

Hot-elevator-guy nodded.

“Yeah my boyfriend was in high school with him. I kind of adopted all their friends when we got together so…” he trailed off.

“Well he was great, really, really good” Kurt professed, and hot-elevator-guy smiled.

“Hey…” Kurt thought aloud “You guys should come and hang out tonight. Rachel’s having people at her place for drinks, there would be space for you all…it could be fun?”

Hot-elevator-guy smiled.

“That sounds great. I have to go and find my boyfriend and see what he wants to do, then we’re heading back up to Trent’s room, but we could see you guys there later?”

Kurt nodded.

“Sounds good. I have to go…deal with something first, but I’ll be heading over in a while. If you’re going back up, just get the address from Rachel. Tell her Kurt invited you”.

‘Kurt?”

Kurt nodded.

“I’m Dan” the stranger held out his hand, and Kurt shook it.

The elevator doors rolled open and both men stepped out.

“I have to go find my boyfriend” Dan gestured towards the stage door “but it was great to meet you”.

“You too." he gestured towards the restroom with a small smile and turned away before stopping. "Maybe see you later?"

The stranger nodded, and smiled as he disappeared through the stage door. Kurt began to brace himself as he walked towards the bathroom. As desperate as he was to just-do-it, he was also kind of putting off the inevitable. Sebastian had been his life for the better part of three years, and everything he knew was doubtless about to change.

He stood in front of the mirror and splashed his face with water, looking at is reflection for a trace of the Kurt Hummel that had come to New York with a dream and a suitcase full of optimism. He was in there, somewhere, Kurt knew. Tonight, he thought, might just be the first step on the way to finding him.

*

The apartment was dark when Kurt opened the door. He assumed Sebastian had grown tired of waiting and gone out, but the soft sound of a Rihanna song coming from the kitchen told him he was wrong.

“I’m back…” he called as he walked towards the sound, flicking light switches as he passed them, not wanting to do this in darkness, not want to make it feel more sinister and negative than it already would.

“I’m in the kitchen”

Sebastian’s voice was thick with something Kurt couldn’t quite place, and it worried him, but the time for backing out had long since passed. He walked in to the kitchen, saw Sebastian sitting at the table with an empty glass in front of him.

“I’m sorry” Sebastian said, not looking up, and Kurt said “I kissed someone else”.

It was pretty quick after that. Nobody shouted, nobody cried, nobody tried to change the outcome. Kurt presented the facts as if they had happened to someone else, unfeeling, never letting himself sound wistful, or apologetic. This was just something that had happened, and now they were done. Right now wasn’t the time for latent emotions to come to the surface.

“Do you love him?” Sebastian asked, when it was over.

“No” Kurt answered honestly, because he didn’t, not yet.

“Are you going to look for him?”

There was a silence, one Kurt recognized in retrospect as the type that can change everything. Their eyes met: Kurt looking to Sebastian, Sebastian looking back, and Kurt lifted his chin, and squared his shoulders, and smiled, and said “Yes”.


	5. An Engagement

Blaine sunk down on to the top step of the building, the cool air a relief after Rachel’s overcrowded apartment. Inside, a group of people far too vast for him to ever work out who everyone was were drinking, and dancing, and laughing. Blaine just needed a minute. His head was fuzzy from the beer, so he rested it lightly on his hands, and let himself relax. He felt weird.

Last time Blaine was in the city, he’d kissed another guy. He could justify his way around it over and over, but the central facts of the story never changed. He had met a guy, and taken him for coffee, and then talked himself hoarse to a complete stranger. And then they’d kissed. Blaine thought he was past it, thought that after a difficult few months right at the beginning he was ok with Dan, was happy, just like he’d been before ice rinks and stars and a boy named Kurt. Being back in New York, surrounded by these vibrant people who somehow reminded him of a boy he’d only known a few hours, and hadn’t seen for months, was forcing him to admit that maybe he…wasn’t.

He glanced over his shoulder to the open door, irrationally hoping that somehow it would give him the answer he so desperately craved. Difficult, he thought, when he hadn’t even worked out the question.

Blaine heard footsteps, solitary and slowed by alcohol, and he smiled, a genuine display of happiness, when Dan appeared at the bottom of the inside staircase. Maybe that was the answer, Blaine thought wryly to himself. He had asked internally for help and the universe had sent him Dan. Wow. Blaine adjusted his grin, hoping he looked less manic than he felt, letting it fall into a natural smile as Dan sat down beside him and wrapped his arm around Blaine’s back, pulling him close.

“Hi” Blaine mumbled into Dan’s shoulder, and Dan laughed and pulled him closer still.

“Will you walk with me?” Dan asked, his voice shy, and Blaine felt like something was about to happen.

“Always”, Blaine replied, and his heart pinched a bit with guilt, and then he breathed, and then he meant it.

*

Kurt slowed as he reached Rachel’s street. He had lived here himself for almost a year before he moved in with Sebastian, but somehow it didn’t feel like coming home. He felt disconnected, nothing like the freedom he had expected from telling Sebastian it was over. It didn’t feel over yet.

He squinted as he neared Rachel’s apartment, trying to make out the retreating figures walking north, but failing. Rachel was far more social than Kurt had ever been; it was entirely possible he wouldn’t recognize them even if he was close enough to see their faces.

Rachel was waiting on the steps, her face expectant as Kurt approached.

“I did it” he said, and she nodded, just once. Good.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rachel asked, and Kurt let himself feel touched. It was a huge night for Rachel, who could be self-entitled even when the occasion didn’t call for it, so for her to even ask was kind of a big deal.

“Nope.” He said.

“I want to drink beer and celebrate with my best friend”.

Rachel’s smile told Kurt that this was the right answer. She handed him the beer in her hand and placed her arm around his shoulder. Her face shifted, and with the movement of just a few muscles she was back in show mode.

“You” she said as she guided him towards the open door “should come and meet Trent.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at what he was sure was about to become a misguided attempt at a rebound, but let himself be lead.

*

Blaine and Dan walked for what seemed like hours, but in reality was barely twenty minutes. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they didn’t, the conversation between their clasped hands enough to fill the late night semi-silence. It was so rare that they were able to truly be alone, with no distractions or interruptions, and Blaine found himself feeling grateful, and calm, and so glad they had taken this trip.

“Where are we going?” he asked as they reached the Dakota building, and Dan smiled, and squeezed Blaine’s hand tighter, and said “Everywhere”.

*

By the time he was handed his third beer, Kurt had begun to relax. Trent was a sweet boy, and it became quickly obvious that a few beers made him very flirtatious, but it was nice to talk to somebody who didn’t have the legacy of Kurt Hummel to build their expectations upon. If Trent expected nothing, Kurt thought, then he wouldn’t be disappointed.

It was just past midnight when Kurt spotted Tyler and Rachel making their excuses, getting ready to hole up in a bedroom and celebrate in an entirely different way.

It was just past midnight when he bid Trent goodnight, knowing that filling the void left by Sebastian (left by Blaine?) was a bad idea for so many reasons.

It was just past midnight when Kurt grabbed his bag, and said his goodbyes, heading for the open door and the cold New York night.

It was just past midnight when he grabbed Rachel by the elbow as she passed, and said “Hey. I’m going to find him.”

*

The apartment was dark when Kurt returned, the bedroom door closed and Sebastian nowhere to be seen. Kurt took solace in that; in the idea that life went on, that Sebastian was asleep as if it was any other night, that he hadn’t upset the balance of what-was-supposed-to-happen so badly that it was visible to the naked eye. He kicked off his shoes and settled in on the couch, realizing as his back hit the soft cushions that for the foreseeable future, this would probably be where he slept.

And it was that, the first visible sign of something broken, that made his breath stick in his throat, tears prickle in the corner of his eyes. Kurt took a deep breath. You wanted this, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry.

The floorboards creaked, and Kurt heard the bedroom door open slowly. He closed his eyes, sure he wasn’t ready for a confrontation.

“You awake?” Sebastian’s voice was close, and Kurt blinked his eyes open to see his boyfriend…ex-boyfriend standing in the doorway.

“Yeah” he said, and Sebastian took that as an invitation, walking over and sitting lightly on the edge of the couch. They just looked at each other for a moment, their faces so familiar, every edge and detail so well known, but changed somehow. Kurt noticed the way Sebastian’s left eyebrow grew slightly higher than his right, then tried to focus anywhere else, as if that quirk he’d loved so much was no longer his to see. Sebastian’s eyes flew to the scar on Kurt’s neck, the place he’d kissed and lavished attention upon so many times, then quickly averted his eyes, the whole thing too intimate suddenly.

The silence grew thick, and something had to happen, Kurt thought, so he smiled tentatively, and Sebastian returned it instantly. And then the silence was broken, and their words collided in mid-air as both of them went to speak.

“I’m sorry” Kurt said, and Sebastian said “I want to help you find him”.

*

Both of them had heard the horror stories about the park after midnight, but Blaine felt safe tucked around Dan as they walked towards a bench and sat, contemplative and quiet.

The March air was cold but comfortable, and Blaine balked slightly, just for a moment, as Dan rubbed Blaine’s palm between both of his and wished aloud for gloves.

Blaine had never given them to him.

The Macys bag was tucked safely away in their closet, buried somewhere in a box marked ‘Blaine’s High School Things’. They hadn’t known each other then, hadn’t shared bank accounts and bills and a life, so Blaine knew Dan wouldn’t go digging through that box for a misplaced piece of paper, wouldn’t find the gloves by accident and end up seeking an explanation rather than whatever it was he was originally looking for. It seemed inappropriate, Blaine thought, to give your boyfriend a pair of gloves that would forever represent a kiss with somebody else and a night of rarity and magic. And as for wearing them himself, Blaine couldn’t, not without wondering whether somewhere in New York City, a man he’d never meet was wearing a scarf, and fingering the tag and wondering who Kurt was. He was trying to forget; that was what he’d promised he would do. Cold hands seemed more bearable than the alternative.

“You know I love you, right?” Dan asked after they’d been sitting a while, and Blaine nodded, because of course, he had rarely been more sure of anything.

“Because there isn’t a minute of a single day that passes where I don’t feel your love” Dan continued, and Blaine’s body stiffened, so briefly he hardly even noticed, because he was right, something was happening here.

“Even when you’re not there, even when we’re in entirely different cities, I wake up and I feel warm because I know that somewhere, even if it isn’t a conscious thought, even if you aren’t thinking of me at all right at that moment, you’re out there loving me. And that is just the best feeling Blaine.”

Dan rearranged their hands, smiled at the dopey grin on Blaine’s lips, carried on.

“You told me once that you had no idea what you were doing when it came to love, but you are, and you always were, so good at it. I don’t just love being loved by you, I love loving you too, because you make it so easy, and so fun. I left a lot behind when I came to Chicago, Blaine. So many people, and opportunities, and other lives that could have been mine, but then I found you. And that was so much more”.

Dan was sliding his hand away from Blaine’s now, standing up, gesturing to Blaine to stay on the bench as he pulled something from his pocket. He winced at the cold of the ground on his knees as he knelt, and reached out to take Blaine’s hand again.

“I practiced so many ways to ask you. I wrote them all down, and then I said them aloud and I still couldn’t decide, but really, it all comes down to this. I love you Blaine Anderson. Will you marry me?”

Dan opened the tiny box in his free hand to reveal a ring that Blaine instinctively wanted to wrap around his finger and never take off. Blaine closed his eyes, tried to ignore the contradictory screams coming from his brain, let his mouth fall into a smile.

He couldn’t think of a single logical reason to say no.

So he said yes.


	6. Searching, Part 1

Kurt began by typing Blaine USA into Google, and from the 17 billion results he learnt that Blaine was the name of a city in Minnesota, a Republican congressman, and apparently a gymnast, which got Kurt’s hopes up for a second until he looked at the photo and just..no.

Fine. He didn’t expect this to be easy.

His next search term was Music Libraries USA, and every site disagreed on how many there were, but the fundamental lesson learnt was that the number was huge. So that ruled out searching every single one, he thought, letting the feeling of dejection last only a second before he moved on to the next idea. It was going to be a long road, he mused as he sipped his coffee and scanned the list of morning flights from JFK the past December, but there was something romantic about scouring the entire continent for a piece of printed music and the man who wrote his name upon it.

Pressure at NYADA was reaching fever pitch as finals rolled around, but he still found time to catch up with Rachel every few days. She’d drag him for vegan food, he’d reciprocate with cocktails, and as the hours wiled away they talked about life after college, and Rachel’s burgeoning affair with Tyler (currently straight, and any doubts Kurt had, he didn’t share) and always Blaine.

It seemed like even when they didn’t mention his name they were talking about Blaine. They’d be discussing fashion, and Kurt would remember how he was lit from the inside when they’d walked past the Winter Garden theatre, and Blaine complimented his jacket. When Rachel described, in far too much detail, the way Tyler kissed, and “isn’t he just amazing Kurt, did he do that with you?”, he tried to block out the absurdity of them basically sharing a man and remembered instead the way Blaine had slid their tongues together, so briefly, but it had shaken him to his core.

Sebastian, too, was a surprising ally, despite his efforts veering closer to ridiculous than actually helpful. He began a twitter campaign to find ‘Blaine, who kissed my boyfriend in the park in the snow”, which lasted a grand total of three hours before Kurt enticed him out of the room and deleted it himself. He didn’t know the situation with the man Blaine professed to love; didn’t want to step on toes, or ruin a relationship, or destroy his chances before he’d even begun. He doubted Sebastian’s 132 followers really held the key, but it unsettled Kurt. He felt better once he knew it was gone; less scared that he might actually find the answer, less scared that Blaine would see it, somehow, but wouldn’t want to be found.

Sebastian’s next scheme was dragging Kurt to Macy’s on a gorgeous May evening, when he would have rather been literally anywhere else than a sweaty tourist trap of a department store. He made Kurt point out the exact register where they’d paid, made him describe the cashier from memory to the flustered sales girl who obviously didn’t remember a Christmas temp who had probably left as the new year arrived. Sebastian, however, was undeterred. He kissed her hand, and thanked her oh-so-sincerely for trying, and as they turned to leave she called Sebastian back, and he looked over his shoulder, and winked at Kurt as if everything was going exactly to plan, which oh, Kurt realized, it kind of was.

He’d half forgotten that the unmitigated charm and flirty looks from beneath dark eyelashes were what had made him fall for Sebastian in the first place.

Within minutes they were crowded in to a manager’s office, which had obviously been Sebastian’s intention all along, as Sugar, the sales girl with an ever growing crush on Kurt’s ex-boyfriend, explained the situation to a bored looking supervisor. Her enthusiasm, it seemed, was infectious. It took her only a few minutes to convince him to log on to the central database; to find Blaine’s credit card record, to look away while Kurt took down his address.

Kurt bit his lip as Sugar scrolled. He grasped the edge of the table as she squinted at the screen, asked if he was sure it was Blaine.

He let his head fall hard against the desk as she announced she hadn’t found it, whined aloud when he realized he knew that would be the case.

Blaine, he remembered, had paid cash.

They left with downcast faces, Kurt in silence, Sebastian with Sugar’s number in his phone, promising to text her with any developments to what she was calling “The World’s Greatest Modern Love Story”.

So yeah, Sebastian helped, and if Kurt expressed his thanks by falling back in to Sebastian’s bed a few times, that was fine. They both knew it was comfort rather than love. They never mentioned it in the morning.

“Why are you doing this?” Kurt asked as a Sunday night turned in to Monday morning, lying sated and loose against Sebastian’s chest.

“Because I meant it when I said I loved you” Sebastian replied, and Kurt stiffened.

“Which time?” he had to ask, and Sebastian replied “All of them”.

That was the last time.

*

May was about to become June, the warm weather finally clinging to the Chicago air, the first time Blaine met Will Schuster. It was part of his course curriculum; all Music Education majors had to complete a placement as part of their degree, and Blaine had lucked out when he found Will.

Will taught in a public high school. He was over-worked, under-paid, and so grateful for Blaine’s exuberance, and passion, and quite frankly the extra pair of hands. So every Tuesday, Blaine would rush from his Vocal Arts lesson to Will’s classroom, where he played piano (and sometimes danced on it), and watched the students perform (and sometimes joined in), and listened as they found their voices; discovered how to use them to say something.

Blaine remembered that.

He knew Ashlee recognized that she was talented, but realized that sometimes being part of a team was more important than shining as an individual. When Cameron had a crisis of confidence, Blaine knew exactly what to do to place him back on track. And if Scarlett wanted to sing to a guy to tell him how she felt, who was Blaine to stop her? She’d learn the merits of subtlety by herself. Blaine knew how to handle these people because at one point he had been all of them. He was, he realized one Tuesday as he high-fived the last retreating student and closed the door, leaning against it with a grin, going to be really, truly, honest to god great at this.

*

Once sex with Sebastian was off the table, Kurt took up running to work out his frustrations, and although it didn’t leave him satisfied in quite the same way, he found some kind of groove as he pounded the Central Park pavements. As he ran, he listened to Sondheim and Schwartz, and Larson, and felt something dislodge within him as he remembered that he loved this.

Sebastian found a job as a bartender at a new cabaret spot, and Kurt and Rachel took turns on the mic, never officially employed but accepted as semi-permanent fixtures on the tiny corner stage all the same. Kurt sang Whitney, and Mariah, and Gaga. He sang Katy Perry in the hope that the sound would drift out to the street, and that a boy he once met who had whisper-sung the lyrics to this song as they walked towards the park would be passing, and would pop his head around the door, just to check. It never happened, but he never stopped. He hadn’t enjoyed anything so much in a long time.

“Do you think it’s changed you?” Rachel asked one night as they walked back towards her apartment, the June air sticky even at 2am. Kurt screwed up his face in confusion.

“Love” she clarified.

“Blaine. You just seem so much lighter since all of this. It suits you, Kurt”.

Kurt smiled, and let out one of those breathy laughs that meant he was happy.

Love.

That couldn’t, he was sure, be what he felt for Blaine. What he felt was more like anticipation; more like the title page, where the story itself was love. This was yearning, and falling, and wanting to be the best version of himself, to be ready, just in case the time came.

But he had changed.

Kurt felt like the cogs of his being were turning; rusty from misuse but inherently remembering their dance. Slow and steady his chest began to feel lighter, and his shoulders dropped, and when he opened his mouth to sing, a sound came out that said listen.

And when Kurt looked in the mirror, he recognized himself for the first time in a long time.

Was that Blaine’s doing?

Kurt didn’t think so. Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t the discovery that refreshed a person. Maybe it was the act of searching itself.

*

To look at, they were the unlikeliest of pairings, but Blaine had met Noah Puckerman in a Rock Singing seminar his freshman year, and between laughing at how decidedly un-rock their professor was and their concerted (and constant) effort to wrestle the solos from the Idina wannabe in the front row, they had become the firmest of friends. These days Blaine said dude a lot, and sometimes Puck wore bow ties, which had freaked them both out in the beginning, but Blaine had to admit that in Chicago, Puck was his closest ally.

Which was, Blaine supposed, how he found himself three beers down one Thursday in late June, telling Puck things he’d never uttered to another human soul. Like how sometimes, when Dan was asleep on the other side of a bed that had begun to feel to big for them, Blaine lay awake and tried desperately to convince himself that he hadn’t just accepted Dan’s proposal because he felt it was the right thing to do. Or how in class, on the bad days, the doodles he made of a tree, and above it a single star, weren’t random drawings but a memory, and a wish, and a cry for help. And once those parts were out of the way, when he couldn’t avoid it anymore, Blaine told Puck, in a series of run on sentences with not much space for breath or thinking, about Christmas, and kissing, and Kurt.

He worried about Puck’s reaction; everybody loved Dan, but Puck just said “Dude”, and Blaine said “I know”, and shook his head, and Puck bumped his fist with Blaine’s and said “Love is love, man”. That was when Blaine knew they’d be friends for a long time.

Later, when their beers were long since drained and the night was tripping in to morning, Puck asked Blaine what he was going to do.

“I…stay with Dan” Blaine answered, and his voice was stronger than his conviction, but Puck seemed satisfied.

“Good” he nodded, once, and then “But if you ever need to get out…I’m good at shit like that”.

And for some reason, be it alcohol, or guilt, or the recognition of true camaraderie, Blaine thought he might cry.

*

As June evolved in to July, and the city heat rendered even the slightest movement unbearable, Kurt took to holing up in the bar while Sebastian worked. It was quiet during the day, so Kurt would perch at the end of the bar and scratch out pencil sketches on napkins and receipts, designing outfits for the clientele as they unknowingly sipped their drinks a few seats down.

He knew he was good, relatively speaking. He had an eye for fashion, a penchant for design, but the technicalities had bypassed him, never being something he’d needed to know. Which was why he was surprised when Sebastian pulled out a sketchbook, on a Friday, sometime in the first few days of the month.

“What’s this for?” Kurt asked, and Sebastian smiled like he knew a secret and said “Your first collection”.

Kurt blushed and smiled bashfully, and thanked Sebastian over and over, but never imagined he’d use the sketchbook for such a thing.

It was only two days later, on a flight to Ohio, home in the most primal sense, that the idea came to him. It started with a sketch of a single star, lonesome in the corner of a page. The star sparked a memory, and the memory a feeling, and when the feeling became an urge, Kurt picked up his pencil and began to draw.

*

“Costumes off and back in the bags please” Will bellowed, the beginnings of a headache settling in around his temples. School had officially ended weeks ago, but it seemed that once the kids had really started singing they hadn’t wanted to stop, which was how Will found himself, on the Friday before the 4th of July, trying to control the chaos that had descended over the classroom.

“Scarlett take that scarf off” he called across the room, momentarily hating Blaine for bringing these kids out of their respective shells. Will still had to pick up the car from the garage, and find something for dinner, and clean the apartment before his parents arrived in town.

“Where did you get this scarf Mr Schu?” the petite blonde asked, letting the cool silk run between her fingers.

“From a thrift store Scarlett. Why?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Because some guy has written his number on the tag. Can we call him?” She asked, her voice serious.

“No” Will half growled.

“Take the scarf off and put it in the bag or you wont have time to show Blaine your performance when he gets here”.

That got their attention. They scrambled for the bag, Scarlett’s face wistful as she slipped the scarf from around her shoulders and placed it somewhere at the bottom.

Blaine arrived just a few minutes later, suitcase in tow. He was heading straight from the rehearsal to the airport, with a quick detour to pick up Dan. It was the first time in years he was going home for the holiday, the first time ever he was taking somebody with him. He was scared, but it made him feel alive somehow. Fear just emphasized the magnitude of the situation. Of course, his parents had met Dan countless times, but this time Blaine wasn’t taking his boyfriend home as a potentially brief distraction, somebody who might not remain in his life. He was taking Dan home as the man he was going to marry.

For a second he thought he might be sick.

But he didn’t have time to think about that now, as he was pushed in to a chair by Ashlee, watching as the kids got in to position on the stage.

And they were breathtaking.

The girls took the lead, dancing around Blaine’s chair, flirting playfully while the boys stood in formation and provided harmony to My life Would Suck Without You. In each one of them, Blaine saw himself, and that, he thought, was why he wanted to teach. Ashlee had really taken on board his words about quiet commandment, and shining without pulling focus. Nick, who had barely sung at all a month ago, was riffing above the other boys in a manner reminiscent of Blaine himself.

Scarlett danced on the piano.

When the song ended and Blaine stood to applaude, he found himself wishing Dan could see this. And then he remembered sixteen year old Kurt, standing on the Gershwin stage and knowing who he was. He wished he could see it too.

“That was incredible!” Blaine congratulated Will as the last of the kids left, calling happy holidays and keep in touch over their shoulders.

“Exhausting too” Will supplied, and Blaine laughed.

“What are your plans for the weekend?” the younger man asked, and frowned when Will seemed to deflate.

“I need to drop these costumes back at the thrift store before I forget and they fester in this room forever, then I need to pick up my car and find some dinner before my parents arrive”.

“I could take the bag” Blaine said, and just like that Will’s shoulders dropped, his face shifted.

“Are you sure?” Will asked, but his voice told Blaine it was a done deal, and he nodded.

“Of course, there’s a place on the way to Dan’s office. I can just run there now”.

Will’s gratitude was written all over his face, all over his slowly relaxing body. Blaine reached for the bag where it lay on top of the piano, pushing the soft fabric of the costume pieces further in, hooking the straps over his shoulder.

“I’m lucky to have found you, Blaine”.

Blaine smiled, touched.

“As is the world of Music Education” Will continued.

“So many people of your calibre have everything pinned on being a performer. It’s so refreshing when one of the good ones says he wants to teach”.

Will clapped his hand on Blaine’s shoulder as they began to walk towards the door.

“I’d love to come back next semester” Blaine offered.

“Even though I won’t be getting credit anymore…I think it was as good for me as it was for the kids”.

Will smiled, nodded, it was settled.

“Have a great summer” Will called as Blaine got in to his car and threw the bag of costumes on to the back seat.

Blaine sang along with the radio as he drove. He felt light, and free, and happy.

He was going home for the weekend, to his family, with Dan who he adored. It was summer, his skin was warm, and he had weeks left of his break from school.

He was going to be a great teacher; an asset to the industry, Will had said.

Yeah. Blaine was happy.

The thrift store was closed by the time Blaine reached it. He left the bag on the doorstep, sure that anybody passing would be welcome to the hideous creations within in.

He didn’t think about the bag as he reached Dan’s office, waving when he noticed his boyfriend waiting, tilting his head up for a soft kiss as Dan climbed into the car. He didn’t think about it as they drove to the airport, holding hands at every red light, or as they boarded their flight, or during takeoff.

Blaine wasn’t thinking of the bag when the store-owner stopped by to retrieve his keys and noticed the costumes on the door step. He wasn’t thinking of it as the owner unpacked each item on to the counter, taking an inventory, hand picking which pieces to keep.

Somewhere above the ocean, ears popped and skin dry from flying, Blaine thought of Dan, and teaching, and his parents, and any number of other things that were not scarves and hats and oversized shirts. Somewhere on the ground, at a thrift store in Chicago, the owner was fingering a silk scarf in mint condition, and wondering who Kurt Hummel was.


	7. A Holiday

Kurt sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the pool, a Shirley Temple that he’d long since stopped drinking in his hand. Behind him, Finn listened as Rachel whispered intently, her face alternating between Tyler who? and I’m far too sophisticated to be having this conversation with Finn who I happen to still love. Kurt was sneaking glances as often as he could without being caught, wishing he’d thought to invite Mercedes, Tina, somebody. His aunt’s back garden was beautiful, and the sun on his face felt like the beginnings of a resurrection, but Kurt was bored.

He’d been back in Ohio two days now, and beyond the obvious catching up with family, and a mini-Glee reunion with the members who were back in town, there was nothing left here for him. He’d spent Saturday morning mindlessly sketching, designing jackets and dresses and shoes without really giving any thought to the lines his pencil made on the page. It was Finn, actually, who had forced him to actually look at what he’d drawn. Finn, who popped his head out to the garden early on Saturday afternoon to ask Kurt if he wanted a lemonade, then stayed a while, curious to see how people who didn’t care for football or video games spent their time.

“What are you drawing?” Finn asked, and Kurt pushed the sketchbook across the table for his brother to look. He was silent for a moment as he flipped from page to page, and Kurt felt suddenly nervous despite Finn having no idea about the definition of a good design.

“What’s it about?” Finn asked finally, and Kurt crumpled his eyebrows in confusion.

“Nothing” he replied “They’re just designs”.

Finn shook his head.

“No dude I mean, they all look like part of something. I mean, I don’t know about clothes or anything, but they look connected. Like they have a story”.

Kurt’s throat was dry, and he cleared it before he spoke, buying himself a second.

“I don’t know what you mean Finn…they’re just designs”.

Finn handed Kurt the sketchbook, but kept his finger on the page, pointing out a jacket.

“No, I mean…this. This jacket has the broken seams-“

“Distressed” Kurt interjected, then gestured for Finn to carry on.

“Distressed then. And then these pants have the same kind of thing, but different, kind of. It’s like they’re related but not the same…” Finn trailed off as Kurt snatched the sketchbook back fully, and began slowly flicking through the pages.

“What?” he asked, and Kurt’s face was a picture of revelation.

“It’s a about searching” Kurt said quietly, and Finn unconsciously leaned in to his brother’s space to hear what came next.

“The tailored parts are the outward self. It’s all quite structured and refined, like…a person might want to appear, in public. But then there are the broken parts, as you called them, and that’s…reality. People have flaws. We fray, and sometimes if you know where to look, you can see that. It’s what happens when you strive for something…you unravel, usually, before you find it”.

Kurt finished with a “huh…”, surprising even himself with his description.

Somehow, consumed with thoughts of Blaine and the burning need to find him, Kurt had sketched out the beginnings of a collection. He’d have to tell Sebastian, he thought. His ex-boyfriend relished every opportunity to gloat about being right.

Had he realized, as he drew, that he was starting something? Kurt thought not, actually. It was an unconscious effort. It just happened. Some people ate their feelings, some sang until they were out. Kurt, it seemed, drew them.

So he’d spent the rest of Saturday trying to make sense of the stories that had shown themselves in the guise of dresses and shoes. The jacket that had sparked Finn’s original point became a centerpiece, and a representation of everything the collection epitomized. By the time he moved from the garden to his bedroom, no longer able to chase the fading sun, he had six complete outfits. By the time he fell asleep, cheek pressed to the pencil lines in his sketchbook, Kurt thought he maybe had a collection.

But now, kicking gently back and forth at the edge of his aunt’s swimming pool, Kurt was bored. He glanced over his shoulder again, caught Rachel swiping her thumb across Finn’s wrist, sighed.

Quickly, he pulled himself to his feet.

“I’m going for a walk” he announced to nobody in particular, and wasn’t sure anybody even noticed as he slipped out of the garden gate.

*

The Anderson house was quiet. Blaine had been elated when he arrived home, letting his mother coddle him, answering his dad’s questions about school, spending the first night back in the pool house with Dan and Cooper and his girlfriend Cleo, drinking too much wine and laughing too loudly, but the novelty of seeing everyone again was fast fading.

It wasn’t that the Andersons didn’t love each other, because of course they did. They had just never been a family who showed much physical affection. After a night, his mother’s pandering began to irritate Blaine. There were only so many of his father’s questions he could answer without the conversation becoming stilted and difficult, and as much as he enjoyed Cooper’s company, they saw each other so seldom that it felt like spending time with a stranger.

Blaine was grateful for Dan as they sat in companiable quiet in the garden. Dan was pretending to scan a newspaper, but Blaine was sure he wasn’t actually reading it, preferring instead to just be for a minute. Blaine was on edge. His family were somewhere in that familiar shift between interested and judgemental, and Blaine didn’t want Dan to see him crumble under the pressure he had become so used to. He sat rigid in the garden chair, listening silently to the sounds of lives happening around him.

Cooper’s laugh echoed from somewhere beyond the open door of the pool house, and Blaine smiled. He had his differences with Cooper, who rated his career far more highly than maintaining any kind of relationship with his brother, but it was nice to hear him laugh. Cleo was good for him, Blaine thought. She was different from his usual Hollywood model type, who were beautiful, and bouncy, and so boring. Cleo seemed real, and so, thought Blaine, did the relationship. Cooper was lucky.

He could hear his parents preparing food for the barbeque in the kitchen, their affection muted and subtle, but apparent all the same. Blaine listened as his mother said how happy she was to have the whole family home. Blaine knew she included Dan in that; knew she was trying. It was almost more than he had ever dared to hope for.

From the next garden, Blaine heard the sounds of children playing. He had never officially met the neighbours, having long since left for college when they moved in. They seemed nice enough, he thought now, if a little loud. Hudson, he thought, was their name.

“Finn, Finn” they called, and Blaine didn’t know who Finn was, but a deeper voice answered and the children screamed in delight. He’d introduce himself next time they met at the end of the driveway, he thought. They sounded happy.

“Whats up?” Dan asked, and Blaine turned to see his boyfriend staring at him with fond concern.

He mentally shook himself, and smiled.

“Why would anything be up?” he asked, and Dan cocked an eyebrow knowingly but let it go, turning back to his paper.

In the space of a question and a glance, Blaine was riled.

“I’m fine Dan…” Blaine muttered, berating himself even as he spoke for re-opening the conversation but unable to stop himself somehow.

“You’re not.” Dan answered without even looking up, and Blaine sighed and gently plucked the newspaper from his boyfriend’s hands.

“What makes you say that?”

Dan exhaled and shifted, turning to face Blaine fully.

“You’re being petulant and moody. It’s like you walk in to your parents’ house and revert to being a child and I just don’t get that. I just want you to be able to talk about it and know it’s ok”.

Dan was right, Blaine knew. After a few hours with his father in particular, he began to bristle at the slightest comments and would fold in on himself, coping the only way he knew how. He knew he did that, was fully aware it was childish and ridiculous, but he didn’t need to be called out on it by the one person in this equation who he’d expected to be unconditionally on his side.

“No, you don’t get it, so can we just let it go?” Blaine asked, closing his eyes. Dan drew in a sharp breath and pushed his chair away from the table.

“Whatever you want, Blaine. I need another beer, do you want one?”

Blaine nodded.

“I love you” he called to Dan’s retreating back, and Dan’s voice was small, and sad, and far away when he said “I love you more”.

*

Kurt walked around the block slowly, the hot summer wind a comfort on his skin. He hadn’t grown up here; had barely spent time in this part of town at all, but that was the thing about Ohio. You could be anywhere and nowhere all at once. The houses looked the same as the ones where Kurt had played, creating worlds for himself while his parents; later, his dad, spoke in hushed tones to their friends.

He felt like a giant, and he felt so small.

In the past few years, Kurt had begun to equate the idea of summer in Ohio with hope. The last full summer he had spent here was full of last coffee dates, and last dinners at Breadstix, and last nights sleeping in his dad’s home, in his teenage bed. He was getting out, and every second of that Last-Ohio-Summer had been a reminder of that. His time was expiring, and he could not have been more excited. Heat, and quiet nights, and sticky skin still reminded him of that feeling.

As he walked, Kurt thought of cliché things, like how far he’d come, and how much he had changed, and how many wonderful things there still were to experience, and he wasn’t shocked when he felt a tear slip down his cheek, and come to rest above his top lip.

*

Blaine felt antsy by the time Dan returned with their drinks. His stomach was twisting, and his temples were throbbing with tension, but he tried to relax as Dan placed the beer bottle infront of him and kissed his cheek; tried to rearrange his face quickly in to a smile.

“I’m sorry” Dan offered, and his tone made it sound like a question.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” Blaine promised, reaching to his right to place a hand softly on Dan’s knee.

“I just don’t have the kind of relationship with my parents that you do, Dan. They don’t know about my life, my real life, and it makes me nervous to come here and show them what we have because it’s precious, and I don’t want their judgement”.

Blaine squeezed where his hand rested, and Dan smiled.

“But they love me, right?” he asked, and Blaine grinned.

“Who wouldn’t?” he answered, and the familiar pang of guilt rose in his chest for just a second, before it was buried by contentment, and a sense of home, and Dan’s lips meeting his.

They stayed like that for a while, lazy kisses punctuating the early evening quiet, hands grasping hands, smiles meeting smiles, until Blaine looked up and saw Cooper watching with an all too inquisitive expression on his face. Laughing, he pushed Dan gently off, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t stop on my account” Cooper said, holding his hands up, and Blaine rolled his eyes.

“Did you want something?”

Cooper nodded.

“Yeah, actually. Remember the time I made you dress up and sing Mmmbop while Mom took pictures?”

Blaine rolled his eyes, nodded, gestured for Cooper to carry on.

“Do you have the photos? Mom said she thought they were in your boxes upstairs, and I want to show Cleo”.

Blaine pushed himself out of his chair with one hand.

“Probably. Keep my boyfriend company while I check?”

Cooper nodded, and Blaine made his way towards the house, desperately trying to remember the last time he saw the album that the photos of his uninvited makeover were in.

He began by looking under the bed, but all he found there was a sock long past salvation, and a pile of Fencing magazines left over from his Dalton days. Opening the built in closet was daunting; there were so many boxes, Blaine didn’t know where to start, but he methodically discarded the ones labeled clothes, and trophies (he’d been good at Fencing), and pulled down the few that seemed to be full of miscellaneous keepsakes.

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the first box on to his lap, smiling as he rooted through the old school reports proclaiming him something akin to the second coming. He was the linchpin of the Warblers, the faded words on the paper said. He inspired others to be better. Dalton, the reports claimed, was lucky to have him. He placed the pile beside him and continuted flicking through, stumbling on photos of the Warblers after their first (and only) national win, ticket stubs from his first date, notes scribbled on hotel paper, left over from his last competition, somewhere in New York state.

He was half way through the second box when he found it. He remembered immediately what it was. The envelope was still pristine, his name written neatly on the front. No surname, no address, just Blaine, the handwriting soft and curved. He remembered thinking, at the time, that his name had never seemed so beautiful.

Blaine clutched the envelope to his chest, just as he had when it first arrived. He quickly untucked the flap and pulled out the single piece of paper, hand written, and began to read.

*

Dear Blaine,

I felt like I should explain myself after the way I treated you yesterday; It was a snap reaction and I admit I probably came across harsher than I intended. I forget how much younger you are than me, and I mean that entirely to your credit. I can sit and drink coffee with you, and talk about life, and not remember for hours that the things I take for granted are things you cannot possibly know at sixteen years old.

You’re at a point in your life, I know, where it feels like you know everything there is about desire and lust and relationships, and trust me when I say this is not, and will never be, the case. If that sounds patronizing I don’t mean it to. There will come a time when you realize that when it comes to matters of the heart, people never stop learning, but knowing this will not stop you from feeling you’ve discovered it all. It’s one of those things. Every time we think we’ve got it figured out, something happens that proves we are so wrong.

You’re an amazing person. I hope you never doubt that, but the nature of the world suggests that at some point you will. When that time comes, I hope you remember that when you were sixteen years old, you were brave enough to serenade a boy, and expose your heart in public in a way that so many people never find the courage to do. Remember that the boy thought you were amazing, even if it wasn’t in the way you thought you wanted.

One day, you’ll fall in love and realize that the grand gestures don’t mean a thing when they’re directed at the wrong person. You’ll realize that sometimes it’s the tiny things that come to define what you’re feeling, and that when you find the one you’re meant to direct all this energy towards, you’ll know. And all those times you thought you were in love? You’ll chalk them all up to experience and let them fade away.

That’s the way it goes, Blaine. One day, five years from now, give or take, you’ll meet somebody that’ll blow you away. You’ll probably think of me, when it happens, and of all the other people you thought you wanted between now and then. You’ll remember us all. And then you’ll let us go because from that moment, nothing can compare. Because you found him. It’ll be when you least expect it; when you’ve forgotten to look. And then every single thing you do will somehow mean more.

I hope you’re happy, then, but also now.

Your friend,

Jeremiah.

*

Blaine smiled, a warm wave of nostalgia spreading from the tips of his toes to his chest. He hadn’t read the letter in years; honestly hadn’t even known where he’d stashed it when he’d upped and moved to Chicago to start his new life, leaving behind the things he didn’t think he’d need. And then he’d found Dan. And Jeremiah had been right; everything else paled in comparison.

Except…something was niggling at him. He didn’t quite know what, but he felt unsettled as he scanned the letter again.

“That’s the way it goes Blaine”, Jeremiah had promised, and he’d been right.

“One day, five years from now…”

Blaine stopped.

“Five years from now…you’ll meet somebody that will blow you away.”

He went through the charade of counting on his fingers, although he knew immediately he was right. The letter had been written a lifetime ago, posted through the door of his parents’ house in Ohio. And five years had passed. Blaine had left Ohio, built a whole new existence in Chicago by the lake. But five years to the day since Jeremiah had promised him he’d discover-it-all, Blaine hadn’t been at home.

It was December when the letter was written, somewhere very close to Christmas day. Blaine remembered finding it on the mat when he came downstairs; remembered holding it close to his chest for a while, as if willing it to become a declaration of love would somehow change the contents. It was freezing, so he snuggled back under his duvet to read Jeremiah’s words, burying his face in the pillow when he cried because he was so devastated, but so touched.

He’d largely forgotten about the letter after that, because the Blaine of back then had become such as expert at putting on a brave face that even he often mistook it for the real thing. He’d picked himself up, and rearranged his smile until it didn’t look forced, and moved on.

And five years to the day later, Blaine Anderson touched down in New York City. He auditioned for a show, then headed to 34th street to buy a gift before his flight. He smiled at the tinny Christmas sound track, thought about how lucky he was to be in his favourite city, buying a present for the man he loved. He chose some gloves, saw them before he reached them.

He met a man named Kurt. Five years to the day.

*

Kurt felt as if he had been walking for hours, but in reality it was only about twenty minutes until he came to a stop back on his aunt’s front porch. He sank down to the top step, content to just sit for a while. He could hear Finn still playing with his cousins in the yard, and Rachel, talking to someone he couldn’t quite identify about her plans after graduation. He laid back on his elbows, let the sun lavish his face with heat and light.

He was, he thought, recognizing the moment as a transition. He had NYADA, and he had his designs, which he’d started to believe might really be something. There was Sebastian, who loved Kurt in so many ways, and Rachel, who loved him in other, different ones. Kurt’s life felt full. He had options. It was a nice feeling.

He was snapped from his reverie by the screen door sliding open in the neighbouring house.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he heard a concerned voice ask, and he couldn’t make out the reply, but heard footsteps, and the door closing behind whoever had left the house.

Kurt ducked around to his aunt’s side door, not in the mood for awkward small talk with, judging by the house, a wealthy ohio-ite who could ruin his contentment with one misplaced comment. Kurt quietly opened the side gate and slipped back in to the yard. He heard the footsteps walk towards what he guessed was the front porch, and then abruptly stop. He guessed the mystery figure was seeking solace on the porch. Once again, Kurt thanked NYADA’s compulsary dance classes for his nimble limbs, and his ability to move quickly.

*

Blaine was shaken as he sank down on to the top step of his parents’ porch. He had stashed the letter at the bottom of the box, left the debris of his childhood on the bed as he made his way numbly back to the yard.

“Did you find it?” Cooper had asked as Blaine walked out of the house, and it took a second before Blaine even remembered that he was supposed to be looking for the photograph.

“No” he said quickly, and it felt like a lie despite the fact that he hadn’t.

“I need some air” he said, scrambling for the screen door, ignoring Cooper’s confused voice as he pointed out “We’re in the yard…there’s air here…”.

“Are you ok?” Dan called after him, and Blaine waved him off with a mumble about the heat of the house, and the heat of the barbeque, and promised that really, he was fine, he just needed a moment.

Which was how he found himself staring blindly at the street he’d grown up on, lying back on his elbows on the front porch of the very house where he’d read the letter for the first time.

He’d had no idea, back then when he was so young and so consistently optimistic, about what was in store for him; no idea that he’d meet a man so wonderful and supportive, no idea that he’d jeapordise it all for a kiss with a stranger, five years to the day that Jeremiah promised he’d find what he was looking for.

Blaine looked up as he heard the door open, and smiled as he saw Dan walking towards him. It reminded him so fully of the night they’d got engaged; Blaine sitting contemplative on a step, thinking of Kurt; Dan appearing from a doorway, Blaine smiling although he was rattled to the core.

Dan sank down beside Blaine and held out his hand. Blaine took it, holding tightly on.

“I love you” Dan said softly, and all Blaine could manage was “I know”.

*

It was Tuesday when Kurt returned to New York City. 

He dropped his bags at the apartment, and went immediately to the bar, where Sebastian was mid way through a shift.

“You ok?” Sebastian asked, pleased to see Kurt when he walked unexpectedly through the door.

“I wanted to show you something” Kurt said, brandishing his sketchbook in Sebastian’s direction.

They sat at the end of the bar, both of them silent as Sebastian pored over the pages, his face giving nothing away.

“Well?” Kurt asked, practically vibrating with tension as his friend reach the last page and flipped the book closed.

Sebastian took both of Kurt’s hands in his. He smiled, so wide that his face changed, and said “I told you so”.

*

It was Thursday when Blaine returned to Chicago.

He waited, subdued and mostly silent, for Dan to swing by the office, and then he called Puck.

They met at a bar on Michigan Avenue, and Puck talked while Blaine stared in to his whisky sour (he didn’t reply like the taste, but whisky seemed like something people might drink in a crisis).

“What’s up, man?” Puck asked, finally, realizing Blaine wasn’t engaging at all with his tirade about his latest conquest, and Blaine’s heart did a strange thing where it felt so full, just for a second, that he thought it might burst.

“I’m scared of losing Dan”, Blaine thought he might say.

“I’m scared of losing Dan, and I just spent a weekend with the people who are supposed to love me the most and felt like I was wearing a mask the entire time”.

“This weekend I found a letter” he rehearsed in his head. “I found a letter that made me think about the boy who was so pretty when he smiled, and a kiss in the snow, and a prophecy, of sorts, made so many years ago”.

When he spoke though, he didn’t say any of those things.

Blaine took a breath.

“Should I be looking for him?” he asked.

And then: “I’m going to look for him”.


	8. Searching, Part 2

Blaine began by searching _Kurt singer New York_ , but the only real result that yielded was a man who had died in the 1940s, long before Blaine’s intended Kurt was even born. _Kurt New York_ brought up a chain of upscale restaurants, and _thrift stores New York City_ gave such overwhelming results that Blaine snapped his laptop closed and just stared at the wall a while instead.

He kept busy with essays and performance preparation for college, spent his evenings curled on the couch with Dan or drinking Whiskey sours (which he’d learned to like, actually) with Puck. As August ended, he began tutoring some of the kids from Will’s class. Scarlett wanted to sing in college; Blaine would do everything he could to get her there.

As the first leaf fell, and Chicago inched slowly into Fall, Blaine returned to school and found his time consumed even more fully with composition classes, and private conducting tutorials, and yet more drinks with Puck when they both needed a break from the pressures of their final year. It was sometime during the first days of October when Blaine half-stumbled through the door of the apartment after a long day of back-to-back lectures, and found Dan, home early, waiting.

There were candles on the table, music playing from the ipod dock in the corner, wine, chilled and poured. Dan smiled when he saw Blaine, gestured wordlessly for him to sit, and Blaine slid his messenger bag off his shoulder and dropped in to the empty dining room chair.

“What’s the occasion?” Blaine asked, and Dan said “I think we should talk about our wedding”.

*

Between voice lessons, and auditions for the Winter musical, and the dreaded dance classes, Kurt barely had any free time at all, but every spare moment was spent drawing. He bought a new sketchbook, transferred every piece by hand, made the collection he’d subconsciously designed in Ohio look like something worthy of the New York fashion industry.

It was mid October when Sebastian charged in to his room without knocking, brandishing a piece of paper, grinning. Kurt put down his pencil and waited.

“Graduate. Fashion. Week” Sebastian announced, punctuating each word with a hard jab to Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt grabbed the piece of paper, mostly to avoid any further abuse.

Kurt scanned the paper quickly, not wanting to test Sebastian’s patience. The upshot was that a well known designer was putting together a show celebrating New York’s student designers. He’d already spent, from what Kurt could gather, a lot of time trawling the fashion schools for potential participants, but now he was looking for the people he might have missed.

“Applicants must submit a portfolio sufficiently representing their collection by October 30th” Kurt read aloud, looking up at Sebastian in confusion.

“This sounds amazing…but I’m not a fashion student?”

Sebastian snatched back the piece of paper, pointing at a line Kurt couldn’t quite make out from his position on the bed.

“That’s the thing. It doesn’t use the term ‘fashion student’ anywhere. All it says is that applicants must be graduating from a degree program, which, last time I checked, you are”.

Kurt laughed affectionately.

“While I admire your outlook, that must be a mistake on their part. They’re looking for fashion students. It won’t work”.

Sebastian crouched, meeting Kurt’s eyes, taking both of Kurt’s hands between his.

“If it’s a mistake, we call them on it. We fight until they agree to look at your book, because when they do, mistake or not, you’ll be in the running”.

They just stared at each other for a moment, hard eye to hard eye, neither willing to back down from what wasn’t even a dispute. It was something left over from their time together, Kurt guessed. Battling had just become their default.

Sebastian saw the exact moment Kurt began to believe. His whole body relaxed, his hands softening in Sebastian’s. He closed his eyes.

“Ok, what do I have to do?” Kurt asked.

And then, “Thank you”.

*

They decided on December. It was very quick, but that was a trait the two of them had always shared; when their minds were set on something, they wanted it to happen quickly.

They decided on a small wedding, at least by some standards. Just a few close friends and their respective families.

They decided on the hotel they’d been staying in the night they got engaged.

Yeah. They decided on New York City.

Blaine was simultaneously trying not to think about it and counting down the days. He wanted to be married to Dan, he really did. That was binding, and final, and definitive. Dan would be his husband, hopefully forever, and surely that was bigger than any strange connection he might be feeling to a man he met once?

But oh that man. It seemed as if the closer he got to the wedding, the harder it was for Blaine to drag his mind away from Kurt. It was ridiculous, he knew that. They’d met once, talked once, kissed once. People in nightclubs and bars did that every single night, and when the lights came up they walked away and chalked it up to life experience.

Blaine couldn’t do that, could barely even try any more.

He felt, strangely, as if the decision had been taken from him completely. If only he could have one more night with Kurt, just to…check. If only he could really remember the sound of Kurt’s voice, or the exact placement of that light streak at the front of his hair. Maybe if he could properly recall the colour of Kurt’s eyes, he’d feel better. Maybe then he’d be able to choose.

“I’d choose Dan anyway” he said aloud to the empty room. It sounded, even to Blaine’s ears, defensive.

Like a lie.

But the date was set. December 24th, 11am.

Then, one way or another, all of this would be over.

*

It was only four days after Kurt sent off his portfolio that the call came.

“Hello?” he answered, distracted, sweaty from a stage combat workshop, running to his next class because the NYADA scheduling department hadn’t considered the fact that their buildings were, in some cases, entire blocks apart.

“Is that Kurt Hummel?” the sing-song female voice on the end of the phone asked, and Kurt gave a non-commital “mmm”, hardly in the mood for a conversation with a telemarketer or, more likely, his credit card company wondering why he’d missed another payment.

“This is Kyla, from Grant Halliwell’s office, calling about Graduate Fashion Week”.

“Oh” Kurt breathed, stopping still where he stood in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Grant really loved your collection” Kyla continued.

“He wants to meet you, of course. The next step is an interview, to talk about the collection, and then the finalists will be selected, but he loved your stuff”.

Kurt’s head was threatening to start spinning. He moved, weaving his way around pedestrians, sweeping in to the nearest NYADA building, which wasn’t even where he was supposed to be, and sinking in to one of the chairs reserved for visitors in reception.

“That’s…great” He answered.

“Unexpected, but great”.

“Yeah, he couldn’t believe he missed you on the initial sweep of the colleges” Kyla said conspiratorially.

“Where was it you’re studying?”

A laugh bubbled in Kurt’s chest, escaped from his mouth before he could quite mute it.

“I’m…NYADA” he admitted.

“I’m a musical theatre major. My ex-boyfriend said if that became an issue we’d call you on it because the application didn’t state that I had to be at design school, and I didn’t want to enter because I didn’t think it was fair on actual fashion students, but he told me I had to, and I do think the designs are good, I mean..I’m proud…I should stop talking now…”

Kyla laughed, bright and high, and Kurt thought he’d like her, if this went any further, if they ever met.

“Kurt, relax” she said.

“We loved your designs. I assume you’re interested in being interviewed, still free for the show?”

“Yes” Kurt breathed out quickly, and Kyla laughed again.

“Your email was on the application, right? I’ll send you an interview slot, but it’ll be in the next week, in New York City.”

“Thank you.”

The smile was evident in Kurt’s voice.

“No Kurt Hummel, thank you. This could be the start of something, you know”.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, and was met with the dialing tone. He closed his eyes, exhaled.

The start of something indeed.

*

They were shopping for their suits when Puck brought it up.

Blaine was half dressed, debating the merits of a printed shirt with a plain bow tie over a white shirt with more intricate accessories, when Puck asked “Are you sure?”

Somehow Blaine knew he wasn’t talking about the bow tie printed with bells (he wasn’t really considering it, he was just trying it on) or the cufflinks shaped like music notes.

Blaine didn’t turn around as he said yes.

He snuck a glance at Puck behind him in the mirror, felt a rush of affection when he noticed the concern etched on his best friend’s face.

“You know if you’re not…” Puck began.

“I’m sure” Blaine interrupted, his voice strong.

“Good” Puck replied.

“But if you’re not? We can stop this, at any point. Just know that, ok?”

Blaine closed his eyes, nodded, exhaling shakily.

“I think you’d love him” Blaine said, and even as he spoke he had no idea where it had come from.

Puck placed a strong hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

“I can’t wait to meet him” Puck said, and Blaine met his eye, and began, somewhat inexplicably, to cry.


	9. Lost Property

Kurt’s interview was on a Wednesday. He woke early, dressed quickly in the outfit that had been hanging on the back of his door for days, and if Sebastian was slightly too enthusiastic with buttoning the places Kurt couldn’t reach, and let his hand linger too long when he tightened Kurt’s vest at the back, Kurt chose to ignore it.

One coffee, then another, and one more for luck meant that by the time Kurt actually left the apartment, he was practically vibrating with anticipation. He felt good. He was proud of his collection, and the fact that he’d even got an interview when he was up against so many bona fide fashion students was surely a sign of some talent, at least? He told himself he was excited rather than nervous when he pressed the buzzer outside Grant’s building, eager rather than over compensating when he shook Kayla’s hand, focused rather than tense when he was shown in to Grant’s office.

He was terrified.

He gripped tightly to his portfolio as he approached the desk, tried to smile as Grant stood to shake his hand.

“Good to finally meet you Mr. Hummel” Grant said, plucking the sketchbook from Kurt’s hand and placing it on the table.

“Y-you too” Kurt stuttered out, and Grant laughed, not unkindly.

“You’re nervous” he said, a statement rather than a question, and Kurt nodded quickly, deciding that honesty was the best policy when his nerves were right there for anyone within a five-mile radius to see.

“Don’t be” Grant said calmly.

“Your collection was the best we saw”.

Grant smiled, and Kurt felt like a cloud he hadn’t even noticed had lifted. There was light streaming through the window of Grant’s 32nd floor office. The walls were lined with photos of models wearing designs that Kurt recognized as classic Grant Halliwell, and when he took a step back, his foot sank deeply into the plush cream carpet.

“I could get used to this” Kurt said aloud, and Grant chuckled, gesturing for Kurt to sit.

“You may have to” Grant said matter of factly as he opened Kurt’s sketchbook.

“Now lets start with you talking me through the themes”.

“It’s about…searching” Kurt began nervously.

“It kind of represents that state of being where you’re striving for something, and looking for it everywhere, but the reality is you don’t know where to start. So your mind is constantly focused on this thing, whatever it is, but outwardly you’re just trying to be ok, or at least appear it. That was what I was going for with the collection. It’s all quite tailored, and contained, and that represents the façade, but then I’ve included a distressed panel or an unpicked seam. That’s the reality seeping through. You’re unraveling, and if you look closely enough it shows”.

Grant nodded, his face giving nothing away at this juncture.

“And the logo?” he asked.

“Yeah, the single star” Kurt swiped his thumb across it on the sketchbook that lay between them.

“It’s a bit of hope, you know? A single star in a city where you don’t ordinarily see them. It might be a bit cliché…”

“Its genius” Grant cut Kurt off his whole face seeming to burst into a grin, and suddenly his hand was in Kurt’s, shaking enthusiastically.

“I…thank you” Kurt stuttered out.

“Really Kurt, the whole collection is inspired” Grant continued.

“I knew that as soon as I looked at your designs, of course, but I sensed that they were more than just designs to you. Yes Kurt…I mean, hearing you talk about the collection just confirms to me that you have something that goes far beyond talent. Tell me, if it isn’t too personal…was it, the collection, inspired by personal experience?

Kurt faltered for just a second. Of course it was. He wished he could honestly say no; could claim artistic license and pretend he had it all together, but…of course it was.

“I…yes. Yeah it was.” he admitted.

Grant nodded, standing, walking slowly around the desk until he was beside Kurt.

“Then whatever it was you were searching for, I think you found it, Kurt Hummel. Of course we’d love to have your collection in the show”.

And then Grant’s hand was clapping Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt stood and let himself be pulled into a slightly awkward hug, and then Kyla was there with champagne, because they’d known, of course, and so, somehow, had Kurt, that this was the way it was going to go.

I have to tell Sebastian, he thought, jubilant.

And then, more sober this time, I want to tell Blaine.

*

It was raining as Blaine ran from the entrance of the school to his car, cursing his shoes for their awful grip as he slid precariously on the fallen leaves.

It had been a hard session. The kids were beginning to feel the pressures of college applications, and tensions were running unusually high. Ashlee had told Scarlett that she “wasn’t technically good enough” to major in theatre, which, Blaine reasoned, was probably true at this point, but he was counting on time to fix that. Nick retaliated on Scarlett’s behalf, Cameron took offence in place of Ashlee, and Blaine, who was mild mannered and polite even at the worst of times, had bellowed above them all that if they didn’t grow up, none of them would be accepted in to college at all.

When they’d left for the day, he had sunk to the floor and cried because he never wanted to be that teacher who relied on anger and aggression to get by.

So yeah, he was tense. He sat quietly in the car for a moment, wishing he smoked, or had coffee on tap, or something that would act as a vice and make him feel better. He rested his head on the steering wheel, closed his eyes.

His phone began to vibrate loudly on the passenger seat, and Blaine reached for it without looking up, answered without checking the caller display.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe.”

Blaine exhaled when he heard Dan’s voice, sat up and relaxed back in his seat.

“Hey you, you good?”

“Yeah, I just have a proposition.” Dan continued, and Blaine mmm’d to show his interest.

“I know you get tired when you’ve had college and taught on the same day, so what do you say to picking me up and we’ll go out to eat tonight?” Dan asked, and Blaine sunk deeper in to the seat as he said “I really love you, you know”.

Dan laughed.

“I know. Now get here so we can go!”

“I’m on my way.” Blaine said, already fumbling to get his key in to the ignition as he hung up and began to drive.

*

It seemed as if every day brought a different meeting, or a different decision to be made about the collection, and Kurt was exhausted but absolutely in his element. On Wednesday he met the seamstress who’s team would be bringing his designs to life, on Thursday he provisionally selected his models from a ridiculously extensive portfolio. He’d barely seen Grant at all, the ethos of the scheme preferring that Kurt went it alone as much as possible, so it was nice to see a familiar face when, on Friday, he was called in to the office to talk marketing, and press, and names for the collection.

“Good to see you, prodigy” Grant said as Kurt entered the office, passing another of the young designers as she left looking ragged and overworked.

“How are you doing?”

“Good but exhausted” Kurt admitted, and Grant nodded as he slid a waiting coffee across the table towards Kurt.

“I thought we’d start with the name, if that’s ok?” Grant asked, and Kurt nodded as he sipped his coffee, wincing at the bitterness.

“As you said, it’s about searching, which in itself isn’t a terrible name…” Grant thought aloud, and Kurt put his mug down.

“That isn’t it though.” Grant continued, and Kurt visibly relaxed in relief. Yes, it was about searching, but it was so much more than that.

“I thought Soul Searching, for a while.” Grant carried on, and barely flinched when Kurt shook his head.

“No, you’re right, that isn’t it either. Did you have any ideas?”

Kurt didn’t, actually, but he began to speak anyway, hoping that articulating his thoughts might spark something, might bring to the surface something he didn’t even know was there.

“I’ve been thinking about the collection a lot, obviously, and I think maybe it goes a bit…deeper than just the idea of searching that I first described to you.”

Grant nodded, gesturing for Kurt to continue.

“Maybe, I think, it’s about the faith to keep searching, even when you’re getting nowhere. You’re looking, and it’s kind of killing you that nothing is happening, but something makes you carry on. It’s that idea that when you’re supposed to, you’ll find…whatever it is. Completely by accident. It’ll happen, and you have to believe that. It’s just a question of when.”

“So like fate then?” Grant interrupted, and yeah, there it was.

Kurt grinned.

“More like Serendipity.” he said.

*

Dan’s office was empty when Blaine arrived, so he made himself comfortable at his boyfriend’s desk, and began flicking through the piles of planetarium-related paperwork that he’d never quite understand.

“Hey babe” Dan said as he walked in, walking around the desk to kiss Blaine hello, smiling when his boyfriend mmm’d in appreciation and pulled Dan down on to his lap.

“Hard day?” Dan asked between kisses, and Blaine let out a tiny groan and said “Shut up and just keep kissing me”.

So Dan did.

Hands tangled in hair, smiles touched smiles, and it was one of those moments where Blaine truly had eyes for only one.

And then he felt the cool silk brush against his neck, just for a second before it was gone.

“What was that?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before leaning in to capture Dan’s lips again, and once again he felt the soft sweep of…what was that?

He sat back, looked at Dan. Saw it. Black silk with printed skulls, draped around Dan’s neck like a lighthouse, like a warning.

Blaine stiffened.

“What?” Dan asked, and Blaine pulled the scarf from his boyfriend, passed it between his own palms.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, pointedly not looking at the label, not now, not yet.

“Lost property” Dan answered, the confusion evident in his voice.

“I was going to take it to reception on the way out but…why?”

Blaine held the fabric to his face.

“I just really love these scarves” he lied, and Dan raised an eyebrow.

‘It isn’t very…you” he pointed out, and Blaine thought quickly.

“It reminds me of the first boy I had a crush on,” Blaine said, and Dan smiled.

“Ohhhh” he almost breathed out, pulling Blaine’s mouth closer, nipping lightly at his bottom lip.

“So it reminds you of your sexual awakening, and wanting to flirt, and kiss, and…”

Blaine laughed, cutting Dan off with a kiss.

“Yes, ok, that.” He said, and his voice was playful and flirtatious but his soul was shaken.

“Shall we go?” Dan asked, lifting himself off of Blaine’s lap, and Blaine stood, draping the scarf around his neck.

He waited until Dan wasn’t looking, gathering his bags, straightening his desk, before he allowed himself to sneak a look.

He did it quickly, and he had to check, once and then again, just to be sure.

The tag read only the name of the designer.

Not Kurt. This scarf had never belonged to Kurt.

Blaine made a choked sound, disguised it as a cough when Dan looked up.

“Where do I take this?” Blaine asked gesturing to the scarf. He suddenly wanted it off of him, felt uncomfortable at how scared he’d been, how nervous.

How excited.

“Reception, ground floor” Dan said, and Blaine blew a kiss as he walked out of the office, rounded the corner, and slumped against the nearest wall.

Shit.

What would he have done, he wondered, if he’d looked at the scarf and seen Kurt’s name written there, a remnant of a night never forgotten? How would he have explained to his fiancée that they couldn’t hand it in, couldn’t give it back, because whoever had dropped it at a planetarium miles from New York City on a cold late Fall afternoon was never the intended owner? That scarf belonged to Kurt, belonged to Blaine, and once he found it – once, not if, he thought – Blaine would never let it go.

How would he have hidden the inevitable tears? The bittersweet sadness? The joy?

Blaine pulled the scarf harshly from his neck.

This had to stop.

*

On Monday, a session had been called for Kurt to address his team. He bristled with nerves every time he so much as thought that phrase – his team – the combined term for his models, and publicists, and marketing people. He would describe the concept, Grant explained, give them some kind of insight in to how he saw the finished product – because his collection that was born in the garden in Ohio was a product now – and act as a sounding board for any ideas or concerns they might have.

The assembled company was kind of overwhelming, Kurt thought as he walked in to the boardroom on the top floor of Grant’s office building. He made a beeline for Kyla, the only person he recognized in the room, her blonde hair a beacon among the dark and willowy models he’d chosen for the show.

“Hey baby” she called as he approached, handing him a coffee as he came to a stop.

“You alright?”

Kurt nodded, and Kyla laughed, seeing straight through his cool façade.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” she asked, and Kurt’s face just relaxed as he said “Oh my god, so much”.

“Some of the others fell on their faces” Kyla whispered, and Kurt didn’t know whether to be buoyed or worried by that news. What if he was the worst? What if this was a test to make sure he was up to the challenge? What if…

“You’re up Kurt” Grant called, interrupting his internal monologue, and suddenly there was no more time for over-thinking, because the crowd were clapping, and Kyla was guiding him towards a small podium at the front of the room, and he was talking.

“Hi everyone. I’m Kurt, and Serendipity is my collection” he began, and the room erupted. Everyone was applauding, and catcalling their encouragement, and Kyla winked at him, and suddenly Kurt was ready. He could do this.

“So, the idea for Serendipity came about when my brother Finn noticed a common theme in my drawings, and I was inspired to make it in to a collection. As you’ve probably heard from Grant, it’s about searching, and the idea that if you believe you’ll find something, and you keep trying, it’ll come to you eventually. We’ll get to the style of the set and the press stuff in just a second, but does anyone have any questions about the concept so far?”

“The idea that what’s meant for you will come to you…” one of the models, a tall girl with pale skin and blue-black hair, piped up “Is that the same kind of thing as fate, and the stars aligning?”

Kurt could have kissed her. In the space of a sentence, he was back in a midtown coffee shop. It was freezing, and his silk scarf was doing nothing to keep him warm, but it felt amazing on his bare skin. He was drinking coffee with a man he’d met only minutes before, counting only on minutes more before they’d drain their mugs and go in their separate directions, scattering like light from a prism, never to collide again. He was talking about fate, about destiny, and without using the words about a kiss that was yet to happen, a collection that was yet to be designed. It all began there, in that coffee shop, with that conversation. With that man.

And suddenly, Kurt understood in a way he hadn’t before.

“Yes” he said calmly “But we’re the stars. It’s us that need to align to make it happen”.

There was a buzz of conversation as the team took that in, and Kurt stood proud on his podium, and thought If you could see me now.

*

His speech was, by all accounts, a triumph. He’d answered questions, and made them laugh, and when it was over everyone stood and applauded, and then they all branched off to begin work on his collection. His collection. Kurt felt sick with anticipation at the thought.

“Hey, Kurt?” his thoughts were interrupted by a pretty brunette who he hadn’t been introduced to yet.

“Hi” he said, holding out a hand.

She introduced herself as Alana, his head of publicity, and for a second Kurt thought she looked entirely too young for such a title, but then remembered he was the designer here, and was hardly ancient himself.

“Just a quick thing really” she said, guiding him towards a quiet corner.

“I just wondered what kind of angle you wanted to take with your press? Some of the other designers are staying out of it completely, making it entirely about the collection and nothing to do with them as people, but I like you, I think you’re interesting, and I think if you’re willing to be involved, we could do something really cool”.

“What are our options?” Kurt asked. He knew nothing about press, but the performer in him had stirred at Alana’s mention of his involvement. He’d probably say yes, he thought.

“Well it all depends on the kind of scale we go for” she began.

“Obviously we’ve never done this before, but we’re kind of hoping that the fashion press will pick up on Graduate Fashion Week and run with it. I’m thinking interviews, style pieces, profile pieces if you’re happy for your life to be public like that?”

Kurt nodded.

“If we get this right,” she continued “it could be that nobody could pick up a fashion magazine without reading Kurt Hummel’s name. Everyone you’ve ever known will be watching your success, from Alaska to Hawaii. People you’ve met once will be picking up Vogue and telling their friends that they know you. Maybe not the best thing if you don’t want to be found!” she joked.

Kurt froze.

People you’ve met once…

Everyone you’ve ever met will be watching your success…

Maybe not the best thing if you don’t want to be found…

But Kurt did.

“I’m in” he said, and what he meant was “Just try not to find me now”.

*

Their schedules meant that they didn’t get to really talk that often, so when Blaine and Trent found time to catch up, it always felt like something of an event.

Blaine called on a Thursday, and they talked for almost an hour about weddings and college; Trent’s latest dalliances and Blaine’s fiancée.

It was nice, Blaine thought, to talk to somebody who knew him so well, but had no idea about ‘The Kurt Thing’. He was encouraged, expected even, to gush about his perfect fiancée, and their perfect wedding, and their perfect life. Saying it aloud helped, Blaine realized. Hearing the words reminded him how lucky he was.

“I just love him so much” he said, and it felt true, and honest, because it was. Blaine loving Dan wasn’t even disputed. It was Blaine maybe, potentially, probably knowing he could love somebody else too that caused the problem.

It was almost 9pm when Trent regretfully announced that he had to go.

“What are you up to?” Blaine asked.

“A friend of mine got picked for Graduate Fashion Week and we’re celebrating” Trent announced.

“The way he talks about it, he’ll be featured in every magazine from here to the Arctic. It sounds amazing, Blaine, such a great opportunity. I don’t know him too well, I’m closer to his roommate, but I’m happy for him, you know?”

“I’ll look out for the photos” Blaine said, and he meant it. It was nice to see good people making good, even if he didn’t know them personally.

“We’ll talk soon.” Trent promised as they said goodbye, and Blaine was smiling as they hung up, thinking about a night on the couch, a film, some take-out, Dan.

It was hours later, sitting up in bed waiting for Dan to brush his teeth, that Blaine replayed the phone call.

It was hours later that he realized he’d forgotten to ask the designer’s name.


	10. A Piece of Printed Music

Kurt’s show wasn’t scheduled until the New Year, so once the initial preparations were underway, life returned to some semblance of normal for a while. Maybe once a week he’d be asked to approve a press shot, or would have to run out of a lecture on Sondheim to clarify to the seamstress that yes, he really did want her to sew a perfect seam and then unpick it, but it was all just part of the final look. For the most part though, the flurry of activity lulled, and Kurt found himself feeling like it was all a bit of an anti-climax.

It was one of these slow days when Rachel intercepted him at the door when he returned to his apartment (and he really hoped Sebastian had let her in, because the alternative was frankly a bit scary even by Rachel standards), sliding his jacket off his shoulders and guiding him towards a dining room chair before he even had a chance to register what was happening.

“I have news,” she was saying, and when Kurt replied, “I guessed that”, she didn’t seem to detect the sarcastic undertone in his voice.

“So. We barely see each other anymore…” she began, and Kurt’s suspicions were piqued. When Rachel said she had news and then began like that, it almost exclusively meant she wanted something.

“Go on…”

“So we barely see each other, and I’ve been kind of hoping that an opportunity would arise for us to spend some time together before your show, and the winter musical, and I think I may have found the perfect situation!”

Rachel was almost shouting by the time she reached the end of the sentence, and Kurt choked back a laugh as he realized he’d kind of missed this. She was right. Between her academic responsibilities, and Kurt’s life being hijacked by fashion shows and design obligations, they hadn’t spent any quality time together in a while. It might be nice to catch up, Kurt thought. He’d hear her out.

“Please, don’t keep me in suspense” he said, and his voice was dry but his bright smile gave him away.

“Chicago!” she semi-squealed, and while the accompanying jazz hands were way too much, it was pure Rachel.

“I’ve been invited to audition for a theater group there. It sounds amazing, Kurt, they sing everything and they’re really beginning to make a name for themselves. Their soloist is pregnant, so she’ll be leaving just as we graduate! They want to fly me out there to sing for them next week!”

Rachel finished by launching herself at Kurt, wrapping her arms hard around his neck, his chair swaying with the impact.

“That sounds great!” he said, pushing her back just enough so he could stand.

“But what does that have to do with us spending time together?”

Rachel’s face grew serious.

“Come with me” she said, and Kurt screwed his eyes in confusion.

“Seriously, come with me. Just for the weekend. We can go dancing, and have dinners, and just catch up before you’re thrown even deeper into fashion show chaos. Please?” Rachel clapped her hands together.

When she put it like that, Kurt couldn’t think of a single reason to say no.

So he said yes.

*

The bachelor party was planned for a Saturday night. They were keeping it small; could hardly expect everyone to fly in when they were all going to New York for the wedding in just a few days. Blaine didn’t want a fuss.

Obviously, he thought as he met Cooper off the plane with an entire suitcase reserved for stupid costumes and tequila, that memo hadn’t reached his brother.

“Planning a big weekend?” Blaine asked pointedly, and Cooper laughed as he pulled his younger sibling into a hug.

“You only get married once Blaine…hopefully. Gotta make it count”.

Blaine groaned.

“Good flight?” he asked as they walked towards the car. Cooper shrugged.

“It was ok. There was an obnoxious girl behind me who would not stop talking about how she was coming for an audition. It was cute at first, but I don’t have much time for that…”

Blaine laughed.

“She probably just reminded you of yourself four years ago!” he said, and noticed that Cooper didn’t protest as they loaded his bags in to the car.

It took a while to get out of the car park, and as they waited in traffic Cooper praised himself profusely for things that were entirely out of his control (his bag being first on the carousel, his security line moving the fastest) because it all meant that they’d be back in the city quicker, and therefore could start the party earlier.

“That’s her, the obnoxious singer” Cooper pointed as the traffic finally began to move, and Blaine shot a quick look in her direction as he drove, but wasn’t entirely sure which of the numerous girls Cooper was actually pointing at.

Blaine rounded the corner, left the car park.

Kurt stepped out of the airport, joined Rachel on the sidewalk.

“Shall we go?” he asked, and they headed towards the taxi rank to find a ride to the city.

*

Rachel’s audition was, by all accounts, sublime. Granted, all of these accounts were being relayed to Kurt by Rachel herself, and he knew better than anyone her penchant for exaggeration, but she was incredibly talented. It wasn’t exactly hard to believe she’d blown them away.

“I have a recall tomorrow” she told him, eyes sparkling.

“But I still want to celebrate – in moderation – tonight. I’m in Chicago with my best friend. This calls for cocktails”.

Kurt agreed without much hesitation. Life had gotten a little crazy, and he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to let his hair down.

“Do you need to prepare anything for tomorrow before we start drinking?” he asked, and Rachel as usual was already a step ahead.

“Yes, two more songs, but I don’t think anything in my repertoire is quite right. They’re a lot poppier than I expected, much more commercial. Never fear though, I’ve found a music library just around the corner that I’m assured will cater to my needs”.

Kurt’s heart lurched in that familiar way it always did when music libraries were mentioned. He didn’t know why it still got to him; he’d been to so many in the past almost-year (every one he passed, in fact), but the reality was that he didn’t even know what he was looking for. There weren’t enough hours in a lifetime to scan every single sheet. If he was supposed to find Blaine, he would. One more music library was hardly likely to make the difference.

But still, he braced himself. He let himself hope, just for a second, and then he banished it, desperate already to avoid the inevitable disappointment.

He smiled at Rachel.

“I’m proud of you,” he said.

And then “Let’s go”.

*

Cooper cracked open his first beer almost as soon as they reached Blaine’s apartment. He laid back on the bed, sipped lazily, passed judgment on everything Blaine owned as he watched his little brother get ready, and somehow Blaine didn’t even mind. It was familiar, and warm. Blaine knew this routine, and that was important, because bachelor parties, and weddings, and husbands? He didn’t know that at all.

Blaine wasn’t scared, exactly, he realized as he discarded yet another tie. It was more that this territory was so uncharted. He had nothing to compare it to, no way to prepare himself. He tried to reason that nothing would change: he was already devoted to Dan, they already lived in each other’s pockets, they were already in love. Why would a ring and a piece of paper make any difference? But there was a burden there, undoubtedly. There was pressure, and weight, and Blaine felt a responsibility to get it right.

Starting, he thought, with the right bow tie for his bachelor party.

“You ok over there?” Cooper asked, and Blaine had this split-second urge to tell him everything. Nothing good could come of that, he knew, so he bit back the desire, straightened his shirt, nodded.

“Good” he said, simply, and Cooper’s raised eyebrows were overlooked when Puck burst in to the bedroom, three shot glasses balanced in one hand, shouting something about Blaine’s last night of freedom commencing now.

*

They decided to hit the library on their way out. It looked impressive, Kurt thought as they walked up the stone steps, a large white building with a grand entrance and a stern looking woman on the reception desk.

The music library, it turned out, was just a room on the second floor, but it still held, Kurt thought, a larger collection than he had ever seen. He browsed near the door as Rachel disappeared in to the stacks to find, as she put it, the song that would change her life.

There was a small stand near the door of books that were old, faded, damaged, being sold for a dollar each to whoever stumbled upon them and decided to expand their collection. Kurt began to flick through the sheets, noticing missing pages, coffee stains on essential notes, handwritten directions that would never make sense to anybody else.

“What are you looking at?” Rachel peeked around his shoulder, her face lighting up at the affordable sheets.

“Ooooh we have to buy some!” she exclaimed, sweeping a pile into her arms without really even looking.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. She was probably right, it was so cheap, and even if he never sang any of it, sheet music was pretty. He found a piece from Sunset Boulevard he’d sung a lot in high school, and the key was wrong, but he was pretty sure he could change that. He grabbed a few 1930s showtunes, a couple of more popular songs, a battered Disney book that he thought he might salvage a song or two from.

He snuck a look as Rachel paid, flicking through every page, just in case. With every new sheet his heart lurched, falling fast and rising slowly when all he saw was the printed notes. He huffed when he reached the last page, despite the fact that he’d hardly been expecting that finally, after all this time, Blaine’s name would just fall in to his hands in a room in a white building somewhere in Chicago. Rachel turned at the sound, raised an eyebrow at Kurt’s sheepish expression.

“Looking for something?” she asked, slipping her purchases into her oversized bag, and Kurt blushed, shook his head.

“No” he said as he paid for his own music, and when he slipped his arm through hers and said, “Lets go”, he honestly thought that was that.

*

The bar was underground, literally rather than figuratively, and after two beers and a tequila shot, Blaine had to grip the railing as he descended the stairs, flashed his id, and was ushered in to the 1920s themed speakeasy. Puck was at the bar before Blaine had even checked his coat, and he thought he heard something about flaming sambucca. Blaine loved his friends, loved his brother, but they did have a tendency to go too far. He braced himself as Puck walked back towards him with a shot glass and something that looked like pure Vodka. It was going to be a long night.

By 9pm Blaine was swaying on his feet. He was so hot – was anyone else really hot? – and he’d stopped even pretending to drink the various concoctions his friends were buying through fear of them reappearing on his shoes.

“I wish Dan was here,” he said aloud to nobody in particular, and the girl beside him looked at him like poison before shifting slightly away.

“Am I really drunk?” he called across the bar to Cooper, knowing somehow that the fact he was even asking meant that yes, he was. And then Puck was there, thrusting a glass of cold water in to Blaine’s hands, telling him to drink it, which seemed like the greatest idea anyone had ever had. He reached the bottom of the glass all too quickly, and suddenly not-being-drunk seemed like an even better idea than the pink martini, and the pure vodka, and the shot that came with actual fire ever had.

“I’m going for some air,” he told Puck (or at least that’s what he thought, he didn’t know if the words had made it as far as his mouth), and he pulled himself up tall as he walked slowly towards the exit.

*

“What about here?” Rachel asked as they approached yet another bar, cold and thirsty after walking for twenty minutes. Kurt had rejected every place they passed (too noisy, too quiet, too expensive) and Rachel was losing interest fast.

Kurt scanned the bar as they walked towards it. There were steps leading down to a heavy looking black door. They’d be dangerous after a few too many drinks, he guessed. The place looked classy enough without being overly pretentious, and Kurt conceded, thinking it was worth a try. He smiled as he caught the doorman’s attention.

“Hi” Kurt began.

The doorman looked apologetic.

“Sorry folks, we’re full.” He said, his voice rough in the way that only a heavy smoker’s was.

“You don’t have space for two more?” Rachel asked sweetly, and to his credit, the doorman seemed to consider it for a second before shaking his head.

“Bachelor party” he said, as if that was a sufficient explanation.

“They’re already watching us closely to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. If I let you in, I’m putting my neck on the line”.

Rachel, to Kurt’s pleasure, gathered quickly that flirting wasn’t going to work. He didn’t think he could stand by and watch her desperate little girl routine, not tonight.

“Fine, we didn’t want to come in anyway” she snapped, and oh good, she was going with indignant instead.

“Come on Kurt” she said, thrusting her arms through his, unable to walk quite as dramatically as she would have hoped in her heels. Kurt let himself be dragged, turned to mouth an apology to the doorman, who tipped his head in something like sympathy and waved them on.

Behind him, the heavy black door swung slowly open. Blaine began to climb the stairs.

*

It was late by the time he stumbled in to bed. He was sober now, mostly, but the beginnings of a headache were beginning to creep in around his temples, and Blaine prayed to numerous deities he didn’t believe in that he’d manage to sleep through the hangover. He tried to tuck himself in slowly, not wanting to wake Dan who was sound asleep beneath the duvet. He slid quietly down the bed, curled himself as close as he could to Dan without actually touching. He was almost asleep when he felt fingers entwining with his, almost asleep when he was pulled flush to Dan’s body, almost asleep when a shiver-inducing kiss was placed on the base of his neck.

“Did you have fun?” Dan asked, and Blaine nodded, twisted in Dan’s arms so that their eyes could meet.

“I tried to call you” Dan whispered into the skin where Blaine’s neck met his shoulder, and it wasn’t until a few minutes after that Blaine realized why he’d never received the call.

His phone lay discarded on the bar. It had rung, once, but nobody was there to answer.

*

Kurt’s flight was booked for lunchtime, and it was already way past 9am when he woke in a panic. His alarm hadn’t gone off, or he’d forgotten to set it, or he’d slept through it, but whatever the case, he was late. Rachel was staying, booked on a later flight so she could make her recall, and Kurt tried to get ready quietly so as not to wake her and incur the wrath. That lasted all of about five minutes, then his keys clattered loudly to the floor and he gave up any attempt at silence, throwing his belongings in to his bag, sweeping the pile of sheet music he bought from the table to the suitcase with no regard for keeping it in order, flicking on the coffee machine as he wondered who Rachel knew in Chicago that she could just ‘borrow’ an apartment from anyway? (A childhood friend from her Grandma’s synagogue, apparently, staying with a friend for his bachelor party).

The smell of the coffee stirred Rachel, and she sat up on the makeshift bed she’d created on the couch just as Kurt placed a piping mug on the coffee table beside her. She took a sip and groaned appreciatively, swung her legs around to make space for Kurt to sit.

“What time is your audition?” he asked, and the shift in her eyes from sleep crumpled to focused was pure Rachel.

“2pm, then the flight is at 6, so I’ll be back in New York before dinner if you wanted to grab something?”

Kurt nodded.

“Yeah, I said I’d swing by the bar to catch up with Sebastian, so maybe meet me there?”

“It’s a date,” she said, and then “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be going?”

Kurt drained his coffee in three swift gulps, zipped his suitcase closed, kissed Rachel on the forehead as he stood.

“Good luck today” he said, and she threw back her shoulders, stuck out her chest.

“I don’t need luck,” she said, mockingly, and Kurt grinned, because she really didn’t. She’d kill it.

“I love you,” he said, balancing his carry-on on the top of his suitcase, maneuvering his way out of the door.

“I love you too” she called, and then the door closed and he was gone.

*

Blaine did not sleep through the hangover. He was woken at 9am by Dan untangling their limbs, and he tried vaguely to stop his boyfriend from moving, but admitted defeat when he found himself being tucked back in, felt a soft kiss on his forehead, drifted back to sleep.

The next time he woke it was almost 11, and his whole body ached. He moved his toes, felt it in his head, groaned loudly into his pillow, and suddenly Puck and Cooper were in the doorway, their faces amused.

“It hurts” he moaned, and Cooper, to his credit, handed Blaine a tall glass of water and said “drink”.

The water helped. Blaine tried to move again, and this time the pain and nausea passed quickly. He sat up, surveyed the room.

“Where did Dan go?” he asked and Puck chuckled.

“Back to the bar to look for your phone!” he answered, and oh yeah, Blaine had forgotten about that.

“Ughh” he groaned, throwing the duvet off him and wriggling over to the corner of the bed.

“I need a shower,” he announced, shuffling to the bathroom, leaving his brother and his best friend staring at an empty room.

Dan returned just as Blaine re-surfaced, clean and feeling fresher. He hadn’t found the phone. Blaine’s head was still too fuzzy to think anything of it. He’d just have to get a new one.

*

Kurt made it through security with plenty of time to spare for more coffee, maybe a pastry, maybe a magazine. He set up camp in the corner of the departure lounge, taking three seats for himself, and made some calls to Alana, to Kyla, to Grant, in response to voicemails he’d managed to miss. Everything was going well, it seemed. There were interviews set over the next week that would mark the beginning of his press campaign, the first prototypes were waiting at the office for his approval, and everyone seemed happy with the progress being made. Relaxed, Kurt sunk lower in his chair and unzipped his small carry-on suitcase looking for a magazine. He rifled through clothes and toiletries with no luck. Damn. He must have left it in the cab.

Sighing, he picked up the pile of sheet music instead. It was hardly thrilling reading material, but he was far too comfortable to lug all of his bags to the shop and risk losing his prime spot.

Except…this wasn’t his. This was Barbra Streisand, and Christina Perri, and Rachel Berry through and through.

He began to flick through the pages, and wow, it looked as if she really had just bought the first things her hand touched. Katy Perry, various showtunes, Avril Lavigne…he doubted Rachel would ever sing half of this stuff.

And then his hand stilled, his eyes, his heart.

The corner peeked out from behind another page. The ink was just as dark as he remembered, on a street corner almost a year from here, his lips kiss swollen, his mind dancing, and snow, like a movie or a dream, falling on his shoulders.

He tugged at the edge, pulled the page to the front, and there it was, there he was.

He breathed.

He picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Rachel’s voice was distracted on the end of the line, and there was a moment where Kurt didn’t know if he could bring himself to say it; didn’t know if he could speak at all.

“Are you ok?” she asked, and Kurt said, “I took your music.”

She must have heard that he was shaken, must have known something was wrong. His voice wobbled and cracked, and she was reassuring and calm when she said, “Oh don’t worry! I took the pieces I need for the audition, and you can just give me the rest tonight!”

And then, in Kurt’s silence, she knew, and in her sharp intake of breath, he knew she did.

“I took your music” Kurt repeated, and then “His name is Blaine Anderson”.

*

It wasn’t until they hung up that Kurt looked again at the music. He typed the number carefully in to his contacts, checking once and then again that it was right, but not ready to call, not yet.

His eyes fell on the dots that made a melody, rising and falling. And then the lyrics, right beneath Blaine’s handwritten note.

_“All along I believed I would find you…”_ it read, and it was that, above anything else that the past almost-year had thrown at him, that broke Kurt Hummel.


	11. A Scarf

Kurt dialed as soon as he cleared security at JFK. The phone rang and rang, clicking over to voicemail just as Kurt had begun to give up hope. He hung up. This was not something he could say in a 30 second message.

The same thing happened the second time, and the third, and with every unanswered ring, Kurt became more nervous. When he called for the fourth time, the phone didn’t ring at all. Straight to voicemail, and it wasn’t even Blaine’s voice, just a standard greeting from his provider. Kurt felt further away than ever. The same happened the fifth time, and the sixth. By the time Kurt made the seventh call, the greeting had changed. This number is no longer in service, it said, and Kurt felt defeated in a way that can only follow an almost-win. He had been so close, and now…now he felt like he’d rather have never found Blaine’s number at all.

Downtrodden and sad, Kurt found a cab, returned to the apartment. Sebastian didn’t say anything when Kurt half-fell through the door, dropped his bags, and hurtled, arms open, towards him; didn’t say anything when their bodies met in a hug that he knew was meant to heal; didn’t say anything when he felt Kurt’s tears on his collar bone. He just held on.

*

Christmas break came quickly. Blaine wrapped up the semester at college, was treated to a truly stunning performance of Vienna Teng’s City Hall as a wedding gift from Will’s class, and before he knew it, he and Dan were packing up their lives, or at least the parts that mattered, and driving to the airport to catch a plane to their own wedding.

They flew first class, because that, Dan said, was the proper thing to do. They held hands almost the entire way, and when Dan slipped his fingers free to accept a cup of coffee from the stewardess, Blaine missed the pressure.

Just before the plane touched down, Dan dipped his head, pressed his lips to the place where Blaine’s neck met his shoulder, smiled against Blaine’s skin, and instead of thinking, like he usually did in these moments, that he was making the right decision, Blaine thought Two days. I have two more days if I want to change this, and then it’s done.

*

It was lucky Kurt was still in the city. He’d been planning to fly home for Christmas the next day, had a flight on standby but hadn’t quite got around to making arrangements yet. Could he be interviewed, Kayla asked when she called, for Vogue.com? He didn’t even stop to ask when before he said yes. The snag was, she said, that it had to be tomorrow. That would mean he couldn’t leave the city until Christmas Eve. Did that ruin his plans?

Even if he’d made plans, Kurt would have cancelled them for Vogue. He’d heard Rachel was driving back on Christmas Eve. He’d hitch a ride with her instead. This was worth it.

The reporter, Kayla said, would meet him in the bar of the Empire Hotel, tomorrow, 7pm. It was only going to be a small piece, a profile of Kurt, of the collection.

“Are the other designers doing this too?” Kurt asked, just as they said goodbye.

“Nope” Kayla said. “Only you”.

And then she was gone.

*

Blaine used a street map to find his way back there. That made it harder to justify in his head, harder to avoid the guilt. It was no longer stumbling upon, or using memory to retrace his steps. Street maps meant intention, and a premeditated plan to find it again; to be back at the start of something.

He took a breath as he walked through the door of the coffee shop. The heaters blowing out warm air were welcome respite from the cold, and Blaine looked around as he waited to order, as if he might find something here; a detail he’d forgotten, a clue he’d so far missed.

“What can I get you?” the petite blonde behind the counter asked, and Blaine had already opened his mouth to speak when he changed his mind.

“A tall, non-fat Mocha please” he said.

That, he guessed, was the chocolately taste on Kurt’s lips in the snow. He’d carried that around with him for almost a year now, trying to repress the feeling, and the way his tongue had tasted of sugar when it dipped, so briefly, in to Kurt’s mouth. He was tired of knowing there was a part of his brain, locked up and banished, full of these tiny details, like the sound of Kurt’s breath when Blaine tucked a hair behind his ear, and the feeling when their hands touched, hips bumped. He was tired of blocking things out. He wanted to remember.

Blaine took his drink and found a table near the door. In the place they’d sat, before, a young couple shared a large mug of what Blaine guessed was Hot Chocolate. They looked happy. Blaine had been in that position, literally. He was content, when he’d sat there with Kurt. There had been no agenda, no pretense, just gloves, and coffee, and conversation.

And then “In a parallel world, I think I’d be falling in love with you”.

And then the start of something.

Blaine took a sip of his coffee, swirled it quickly around his tongue, and it felt like a kiss and a homecoming in one.

The sound system was alternating between Christmas songs and mellow pop ballads, and Blaine had almost tuned it out completely when the familiar strains of a song he used to sing piped out through the speakers.

He smiled against his mug as he listened, began to mumble the words against the warm china.

_“All along I believed I would find you”._

He hadn’t believed all along, not at all. But for some reason, and not one Blaine could discern, he thought he might be starting to.

*

Kurt began getting ready at 11am, which was excessive even by his standards. Outfits were tried and discarded, skin was scrubbed and moisturized, his hair was coiffed and pulled in every direction before he finally got it right, and still Kurt wasn’t entirely satisfied. The outfit needed a scarf. The one he’d sent out in to the universe in order to find love would have looked perfect, he thought. Ironic.

Sebastian emerged from his room early in the afternoon, still completely ravaged by sleep, and stuck his head around Kurt’s doorframe on his way to the kitchen.

“Do I look ok?” Kurt asked, not turning around, smiling at Sebastian in the full-length mirror.

“You look hot,” he said in reply, his voice thick with tiredness, and Kurt laughed.

“I’m glad we stayed friends,” Kurt admitted, turning now to look at his ex-lover leaning in the doorway.

Sebastian grinned.

“Me too. I love you”.

Kurt straightened his tie, fixed one strand of hair. Ready.

“I love you too”, he said, and he had never meant it more.

*

Blaine was daunted by the idea of a wedding rehearsal. In all honesty, this wedding daunted him in its entirety. Their mothers had showered Blaine and Dan with support, and suggestions, and money, and while he was grateful, of course, this didn’t feel like Blaine-and-Dan anymore. This was the wedding of two people he’d never met. Two wealthy people who happened to look a lot like them, he thought as he passed the champagne fountain that Dan’s mother had insisted on being set up by the window of the reception room.

Blaine looked at his watch. 6pm. In two hours, he’d be rehearsing his own wedding, like a play; like something they had to practice, to make sure it was right. That didn’t feel like love to Blaine. It felt like playing make believe.

The wedding party were beginning to arrive, checking in to their rooms, finalizing their speeches. Blaine looked down at his outfit and realized he hadn’t even changed. Oops.

Across the room, Dan was talking to the harpist who had been hired to play as they walked in. Blaine scoffed. Ridiculous. This was all so grown up and sophisticated, so unlike the boy from Chicago-via-Ohio who had somehow ended up in New York. Getting married.

He slipped out in to the hallway, leaned against a wall, breathed.

This was really happening. He supposed he should get ready.

*

Kurt arrived first, propping himself at the bar and ordering a Vodka Martini in the hope of some liquid courage. He wasn’t nervous, as such. He knew the collection like the back of his hand, could talk extensively about any aspect of his designs, his process, his aspirations. But this was Vogue. And this was different. They were known for digging deeper, for asking the questions that the other magazines didn’t. And that meant talking about his past, his beginning, his inspirations. That meant Blaine.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his elbow, and the pretty journalist, who introduced herself as Nancy, taking the seat to his left.

“Are you ready?” she asked, motioning to the barman to take her order, and Kurt took a gulp of his vodka, and braced himself.

“Yes” he said.

She smiled.

“Shall we begin with your inspiration for the collection?”

*

Blaine felt better after a shower.

Ok, after a shower and a miniature bottle of gin from the mini-bar, swiftly gulped between drying his hair and getting dressed. They’d booked separate rooms for the evening, on their mothers’ insistence that they should “Do it properly”, and for the first time since arriving, Blaine was grateful. He needed space to prepare himself for this. For fifteen minutes time, when he’d go downstairs, and meet his friends, and lead them all to the designated room to rehearse his wedding.

The phone rang. Puck.

“Hey” Blaine said, and Puck said “Ok?”

Blaine knew what he was really asking.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

There was a moment of silence, then Puck spoke again.

“Remember what I said”.

_If you ever need to get out….I’m good at shit like that._

Blaine remembered. For the past two days, if he was honest, he’d thought about it almost constantly.

*

He told her everything.

He hadn’t meant to, not at all, but once he started talking, the entire story came out, and before Kurt knew it, his life the past year was becoming a Vogue article before his eyes as Nancy typed furiously into her tablet, not wanting to miss a single detail.

Somehow, though, it didn’t feel freeing. He felt like he’d made an awful mistake. What if Blaine didn’t want to be found? What if he’d stayed with his boyfriend, stayed happy, and Kurt ruined that by shooting his mouth off to a journalist of all people? What if all of this was wrong?

Nancy was saying something about what a great piece it would make, gushing enthusiastically about the love story, and the ‘human interest’ aspect, and the romance, and Kurt realized suddenly that she hadn’t mentioned the designs at all.

He stopped her, placed a finger on the inside of her wrist.

“No names”, he said. Nancy raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t use his name.” Kurt clarified, and Nancy looked horrified, as he’d known she would.

“But Kurt…”

“I mean it.” Kurt’s voice was stern now, and it was a shame, because he was beginning to like her.

“I don’t want to ruin his relationship. If he doesn’t want to find me, doesn’t want to be found, and this piece is published, I’ll ruin his life. Please…I should never have told you. Can we talk more about the designs?”

Nancy sighed, opened a new document on her ipad, pulled up the keyboard.

“Tell me about the designs…” she began.

*

Kurt was dazed as he shook Nancy’s hand, bid her goodbye, made his way out to the lobby. This whole time he’d been so focused on finding Blaine, and everything that would mean for him, he’d never taken more than a second to consider what it could mean for Blaine. They’d managed to turn the piece around, thankfully. Kurt had talked eloquently and at length about the designs, and the inspiration, and managed to tell the story with no details, which had taken him straight back to the night they’d met, and shared their lives without really sharing anything at all.

He’d just been interviewed for Vogue.com.

He’d managed to, in his head at least, save Blaine’s relationship and his own dignity.

He’d be able to email the link to his dad, his friends, everyone in his address book. Maybe Blaine would click on it by accident, and he’d be found.

So why did he feel so deflated?

“Kurt!”

He was pulled from his thoughts by a voice calling to him from across the lobby. He looked over to see Trent, waving manically, calling him over. They’d spent more time together since the concert, Trent quickly becoming a staple part of Rachel’s circle, consisting only of people she felt were talented enough to be associated with. Trent was sweet, Kurt thought, if slightly obvious with his often less than platonic advances on just about everyone. He was sure Sebastian had taken Rachel’s latest recruit home at least once, and could have sworn that at the last party he saw Tyler and Trent whispering in a corner (completely unsurprising, Kurt thought. They were as insatiable as each other). Kurt waved back, crossing the marble floor to reception where Trent stood.

“What are you doing here?” Trent squealed, and Kurt balked. He’d forgotten how enthusiastic Trent was.

“I had an interview with Vogue.com” Kurt said, and saying it aloud fixed him slightly, made him blush with joy at what his life was becoming.

“Congratulations!” Trent squealed again, and this time Kurt grinned. He was kind of falling in love with the feeling of getting somewhere. He was proud, he realized. For the first time, Kurt Hummel was proud of himself.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Kurt asked, turning the attention back to Trent.

“Oh my friends are getting married here tomorrow. It’s the rehearsal tonight and I’m in the wedding so…here I am! Hey! You should come to rehearsal! Rachel told me you love all that stuff!”

Kurt smiled, trying not to dwell on the fact that Rachel had been discussing him with Trent. He wasn’t in the mood for another failed attempt at matchmaking.

“She was right, weddings are like crack to me, but I have to meet Sebastian.”

Trent nodded. Kurt was pretty sure their extended circle assumed his friendship with Sebastian still held certain benefits, but he’d allow them to think that if it kept serial daters like Trent at a safe distance.

“Thanks though, Trent.” Kurt’s voice was sincere.

“And hey…wish your friends good luck from me.”

“I will” Trent promised.

“Although I’m not sure they need luck, they’re made for each other”.

“I’ll see you soon, Trent” Kurt said adjusting his bag on his shoulder, his mind already in the next place he needed to be.

“Tell Seb I said hello” Trent called as Kurt walked away, and Kurt gave him a thumbs up in return without looking back.

“Who on earth is Seb?” a voice asked from behind Trent, and he turned to see one of his oldest friends, dressed impeccably in a white shirt and printed bow tie, walking out of the elevator.

“Nobody for you to be concerned with tonight” Trent promised, slipping his arm through the crook of his friend’s elbow.

“Now come on Blaine Anderson. Let’s go and pretend to get you married”.

*

Sebastian was fixing his hair in the mirror when Kurt walked in.

“How was it?” he asked without turning around, and when Kurt remained silent, Sebastian spun on his heels. Saw his face. Dropped the product from his hand and rushed towards Kurt.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Call Rachel” Kurt answered. “I’m trying the number one more time, and I want you both with me. If he doesn’t answer, this is done”.

Sebastian nodded, stroked Kurt’s cheek as he reached for his phone to dial Rachel’s number.

One way or another, this ended, tonight.

*

The rehearsal went off without a hitch. The Warblers sounded as breathtaking as they always had, Puck’s speech was inspired, and when Dan’s lips touched his, Blaine found himself thinking that maybe this was the only way it ever could have ended. He was meant to be with Dan. Maybe, he thought, he was happy. He’d been so distracted by the thought of stars, and destiny, and fate, that he hadn’t even realized, but surrounded by his closest friends, rehearsing his own wedding, he had to admit that maybe happy was, infact, how he felt.

The group had started to disperse when Dan came over and put his hands on Blaine’s waist, hugging in to him from behind, and it wasn’t cold in the ballroom, but Blaine shivered.

“Hey” Dan whispered.

“Hey yourself” Blaine whispered back.

“I can’t wait to marry you”.

“Me too”, Blaine said, and as he spoke, he thought for a second that he might cry.

“Come up to my room in a few minutes? I have a gift for you” Dan said, sealing the sentence with a kiss, and then he was gone, and Blaine was descended upon by fellow Warblers and old friends, wishing their luck for the main event and bidding him goodnight.

He looked around the empty room, hand hovering over the light switch, not quite ready to leave. The next time he was in this room, he’d be getting married. There, by the table which would hold the cake, his parents would stand and watch as he embraced Dan for their first dance. By the French window, overlooking Columbus Circle, Puck would slip an arm around his cousin’s waist as she took in the view (and Blaine made a mental note to warn her of the possibility). And there, in the middle of the top table, Blaine would stand and make a speech to his family, Dan’s family, promising to love their nephew, brother, son, forever, or as close as they could get. There was something final about Til death do us part, and Blaine was determined to honor that.

If we get that far.

He still wasn’t sure.

He flicked the light, and the fantasy faded to black.

He still had twelve hours.

*

Kurt poured the wine from the bottle Rachel had bought, handed out the glasses, and settled himself on the end of the couch. On the floor at his feet, Sebastian smiled encouragingly. He began.

“So. The two of you more than anyone else have seen how much the last year has changed me. I met a boy, and in the course of one night, I was inspired to break up my admittedly dysfunctional relationship, change the whole course of my career, and…look for him. And that can’t have been easy for the two of you...I can’t have been easy. So I guess I wanted to say thank you. It changed me, yes, but beyond any of it, I’m still your friend.”

“It changed us all” Rachel piped up. “Sebastian is actually nice now!”

Her tone was mocking but her smile was sincere, and Kurt reached out for her hand.

“True” he conceded playfully, but in a second his expression was serious again, as he continued.

“So I’m going to call him. One more try. And I wanted you both here with me when I did”.

Sebastian wrapped a hand around Kurt’s ankle.

“We’re here”, he promised, and Rachel nodded her support.

Kurt gulped. Ok.

He picked up his phone, scrolled slowly to Blaine’s name, drawing it out for five more seconds, and then just a second more. Pressed call.

This number is no longer in service.

Kurt dropped the phone. He hadn’t expected any different, but still the shock hit him like thunder before rain; penetrating the fantasy, smashing it apart.

It was done.

*

It was ten minutes before Blaine made it upstairs, running in to friends and relatives on what felt like every corridor. He knocked shyly on the door; felt nervous somehow, like a teenage boy on his first date with the person who might, one day, become his husband. People dreamt of endings like this, Blaine reminded himself. He had dreamt of an ending like this.

The door swung open, and there was Dan, tie loose, hair ruffled, a walking manifestation of every reason Blaine loved him.

“Hello” Blaine said, and Dan took his hand, guided him to the end of the bed, gently pushed him until he was sitting. Blaine felt bashful, innocent, timid, and he couldn’t work out why. This was just Dan. Dan, who knew about the quirks Blaine didn’t even realize he had, who looked after him when he was sick, who in twelve hours time would stand in front of their assembled friends and promise to love Blaine forever without any second thought. Blaine had no reason to panic, but for some reason his heart was threatening to make a break from his chest.

And then Dan was placing a soft package in his hands, sitting down beside him.

“So this isn’t much…” Dan began, “But I saw it and I knew you’d love it”.

It didn’t feel like a Moment.

It didn’t feel like a Moment, but Blaine’s hands shook slightly as he picked at the tape, and then he ripped the paper, and he saw the gift inside, and it was.

A flash of black silk. A white pattern. A scarf.

He sunk into Dan’s shoulder and without really realizing, he began to cry.

“Hey…baby why are you crying?” Dan tried to make Blaine look at him, his voice concerned, but Blaine just buried his face deeper in the crook of Dan’s neck. He needed darkness for a while. He needed to steel himself before he looked at the tag, and was disappointed one more time for something he had tried to convince himself was over.

“It’s just so perfect” he mumbled, and he felt Dan relax, obviously relieved that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Blaine felt a tiny kiss being pressed to his hairline, and for some reason that was what did it. He took a deep breath. Dan had been nothing but the perfect boyfriend. He had loved Blaine unconditionally, and was ready to show the world that by marrying him in the morning. And quite frankly, he deserved better. Blaine steeled himself. He was going to look at the tag, and then put all of this ridiculous business behind him. He untangled himself from Dan’s arm, keeping the scarf clutched closely to his chest.

“It’s perfect,” he repeated, kissing his boyfriend softly on the cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…a wreck. Give me a second?” Dan nodded, removed his hand from where it rested on Blaine’s thigh, and Blaine excused himself, closing the bathroom door behind him.

*

Sebastian tried in vain to drag Kurt to the bar when he left for work. It would be good for him, he promised, to be surrounded by friends rather than wallowing alone in his apartment. Usually, the thought of another cocktail would have had Kurt reaching for his boots, but it had been kind of a huge day. His emotions didn’t quite know what to do with themselves, and for once, Kurt thought it might be best for him to be alone.

“Promise me you’ll call if you need anything, or if you change your mind?” Sebastian asked as he laced his shoes ready to leave. Kurt nodded.

“I promise, now go! I’m honestly fine!”

Sebastian didn’t look convinced, but had no choice but to believe him. He was tough, Sebastian knew, but this had been such a big part of his transformation, and now it was done.

That was sure to shake a person.

“I love you…” Sebastian called as he opened the door to leave.

Kurt was still slumped on the sofa, and he pulled himself up at Sebastian’s comment, smiled, a tiny, sad, smile.

“I love you too” he replied.

“Now go”.

*

Blaine leaned against the bathroom door and took a breath. It was ridiculous, he knew, but this felt like Something. How many of these scarves must there be in circulation? he wondered. And of that number, how many were likely to be in a place where Dan could stumble across it, and lay down a few bills without ever knowing the meaning of what he was doing?

Did he buy it in Chicago, where it would have traveled hundreds of miles to be found? Or in New York City, where the chances of it still being in a thrift store almost a year later were almost slimmer? And why now? Why tonight, the night before he was supposed to be marrying a man who had never been anything but wonderful? Blaine heaved, taking a deep breath. He had to just do it.

His hands shook, his knees began to tremble, his eyes filled with pre-emptive tears.

His name was Kurt Hummel.

Once upon a time, a year from here, give or take, two boys met in a department store and one of them mentioned fate. The dark haired boy forgot his gloves, the taller one his scarf, and what followed was a night of openness and sharing; a single star and a kiss. Blaine had felt things in that night that he never had before; had shared things that he hadn’t dared to admit even to himself. He had never learned the boy’s full name.

And his name was Kurt Hummel.

Blaine didn’t realize he was crying until he heard a heaving sob and realized it could only have come from him. He sunk to the floor, clutching the scarf to his face as if some remnant of that night might remain tangled in the silk. He inhaled, and with the exhale he felt all of the tension and unknowing of the past year leave his body.

“I’ll be seeing you”, Kurt had semi-promised, and just the thought that it might now be true was enough to make Blaine dizzy. He’d found him. With only hours to go, the end wasn’t decided at all. The scarf was back in Blaine’s hands.

He thought maybe he’d begun to believe in fate.

Blaine picked up the phone, hands still shaking, and dialed.

“Hey” he said when Puck answered “How do you go about cancelling your own wedding?”

And then “His name is Kurt Hummel”.


	12. A Meeting

Blaine opened the bathroom door quietly. His eyes, he knew, were ringed with red, and his face was puffy in that tear-ravaged way that had become so familiar in his private moments, late at night when nobody could see.

Dan was closer than Blaine expected, standing right on the other side of the door, hands steadfast on hips. Blaine attempted a smile but his efforts were pitiful.

“What’s going on?” Dan asked, and Blaine said, “I can’t do this”.

Dan dropped his hands, moved closer, reaching out for Blaine’s waist. Blaine braced himself for the confusion, the anger, the fallout, but instead Dan said, “I know”, and in the space of two words the confusion shifted, and was all Blaine’s.

“What?” Blaine asked, dumbstruck, and Dan laughed, a single chuckle, and pulled Blaine closer to him.

“If I’m honest? I couldn’t believe you made it to the airport”.

Blaine slumped forward, resting his head on Dan’s shoulder as he continued talking.

“Every day I thought it would finally be the one where you broke it off. You’re not yourself, Blaine, and I’ve loved you long enough to be able to say that. I was preparing myself every single day, thinking I would say  _I love you_  and you’d respond with  _we’re done”._

“I do love you” Blaine protested, and then “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it was true” Dan’s voice cracked and for a second Blaine wasn’t sure if he could finish the conversation. He considered just letting go and…leaving. He couldn’t bear to see somebody so sad because of him, but he owed Dan an explanation. He could leave, and break a heart, and barely even wonder if his choices had been right, but not without explaining. He had to do that.

“Is there somebody else?” Dan asked, and Blaine floundered before answering “No”.

And then “Maybe”.

“What’s his name?” Dan asked, and Blaine was too tired to lie, so he flipped the scarf, his stomach somersaulting as he saw the etching again and said “Kurt…Hummel”.

*

The apartment was so quiet. Kurt could hear taxis hurtling past the building, many floors below, taking people home to their lovers, and their families, and he lay there and  _yearned_  until his heart ached for the day that somebody would be rushing home to him.

His phone buzzed harshly on the hard wood floor, and he leant over from his nest on the couch to read the name on the caller display.

Dad.

Kurt wriggled forward and grabbed the phone, pressing the answer button just as it was about to stop ringing.

“Hey Dad”, he said, and he didn’t know until he heard his father’s voice just how much he was craving comfort, and familiarity, and home.

*

They didn’t fight.

It ended quietly, with dignity, and maturity, and a whole lot of love, because that was the one thing that wasn’t being disputed. They loved each other madly, and in a parallel world…of course. It just wasn’t right anymore.

In the room next door, a couple they’d never met fell apart wrapped around each other. One floor below, Blaine's parents went wordlessly to bed. In the bar downstairs, Trent flirted shamelessly with the waiter.

Life went on.

Puck was waiting at the door when Blaine returned to his room, and the sight of the self-labeled tough guy sitting wearily on the ground threatened to break Blaine again, so he quickly unlocked the door, ushered Puck inside.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Puck asked, and Blaine shook his head, reaching for the mini-bar, another miniature spirit to numb the ache.

“Have you called yet?”

Again, Blaine shook his head, twisting the cap off his whiskey, swallowing the contents of the bottle in three gulps.

“I wanted you to be here”, Blaine said, and Puck puffed out his chest, nodded, just once, and said, “I’m here. Dial.”

*

They were talking about cars when the call waiting tone sounded, a shrill beeping in Kurt’s right ear.

“Hang on dad…” Kurt interrupted, pulling the phone away to see who was demanding his attention this time. It was a number he didn’t recognize, calling from a landline somewhere in Manhattan. Despite the late hour, Kurt guessed it was work. Probably Alana, checking in to see how the Vogue interview had gone. She could leave a message, he decided. Right now, he was talking to his dad.

“Sorry, I’m here” he announced, silencing the waiting call with one jolt of his finger.

In a hotel room at Columbus Circle, a man put down the phone, defeated, and said “No answer”.

*

They almost drank the fridge dry.

First they were silent, Puck letting Blaine seek his solace at the bottom of a bottle, then another, until the alcohol loosened his tongue and he began to mumble words like  _snow_  and  _destiny_  and  _kiss,_ punctuated with  _Kurt_ , always Kurt.

Once Blaine started talking, it was like a dam had broken. He lamented his relationship with Dan, and his voice was tinged with regret, and sadness, and longing for something that could have been  _so good_ , and had been, for such a long time. In that relationship, Blaine had become himself, fully inhabiting his skin for the first time, as he learned what felt like everything about kissing, and trusting, and loving with his whole heart.

_But I’ll never know it all_ , he thought, recalling Jeremiah’s words of…six years ago, now.

There was still so much to learn, Blaine knew, and in his mind he had Dan so close behind him, and Kurt somewhere in front, but for this moment, on the floor of his hotel room with a tiny bottle in his hand, it was just Blaine. He was unattached for the first time in a very long time, and it felt…freeing.

He might never find Kurt. He might dial the number over and over, listen to the tone ring out repeatedly, and never again hear Kurt’s voice. He could be miles away by now, cities, states and countries between them, and Blaine might never know. But he’d done what he had to.

He felt released.

“What do you think I should do?” he asked, and Puck, eyes closed, mouth smiling, said, “Just be present”.

Blaine liked that.  _Something_  would happen next, that much was certain. Maybe he’d dial the number again, and find Kurt five minutes from now. Maybe their paths would cross in a month, if it was meant to be, maybe in a year, maybe when they were both old and barely remembered. Maybe they’d never meet. Blaine didn’t know, but it would be  _something_. And all he had to do was be ready. Be present.

Puck was drifting quietly in to sleep, so Blaine pulled a blanket from the bed and draped it softly over his friend. He placed his empty bottle gently on top of the fridge, pulled himself to his feet, grabbed his bag. He needed some air.

As an afterthought, Blaine pulled the scarf from where it rested on a chair, folded it carefully, placed it tenderly in his bag. He’d found it now. He wouldn’t let it go again.

*

He hadn’t meant to walk so far. He probably hadn’t meant to walk at all, but the December air had filled his lungs, and suddenly Blaine needed to be moving, to be away from the Empire, where his parents, his friends, his ex-fiancée slept, their unintended pressures weighing him down. His legs were unsteady at first, heavy from the alcohol and the length of the day, but as he walked, his energy began to return, so he kept on going. He walked until he could stand no more, for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes, and then he stumbled wearily down the steps to the first bar he noticed, paid the cover, tripped over his feet as he walked to the bar in what he hoped was a straight line, and ordered a beer.

In the brightest of the room’s dark corners, a petite brunette crooned her way through an Ella Fitzgerald standard, not quite piquing Blaine’s interest enough to make him watch for more than a few seconds. He was  _tired_ , he realized as he climbed on to a barstool. He guessed rehearsing, then cancelling, your own wedding would do that to a person.

“Bad day?” The barman asked as Blaine rested his head gently on his arms.

“Bad year” Blaine mused, scrunching his eyes closed, hoping in vain that if he tried not to think about it, it would all just go away.

“Tell me about it” the barman sympathized, and Blaine thought it was probably rhetorical, but he started to speak anyway.

“I met this guy” he began, lifting his head to see the barman take his own seat on the other side of the bar.

“I met this guy and we had the most amazing night and then…nothing. But it wasn’t a one-night stand, or anything like that at all, really. We just met, and talked, and then he left. He had a boyfriend. So did I.” Blaine snorted. “Actually, I was supposed to marry him – my boyfriend that is – tomorrow, but I called it off because I felt like it just wasn’t over with Kurt – that’s the guy.”

Blaine was in full flow now, staring down at his hands as he spoke, not knowing if the barman was still listening, and realizing that somehow it didn’t matter at all.

“So now I’ve walked out on my own wedding on the strength of one night, with no idea how to even find this guy; no idea if he’d even want to be found. And I feel so guilty for loving (and  _oh_  Blaine thought to himself,  _that was the first time I’ve referred to it as love)_  a guy who for all I know could be happy with someone else. I could have walked out on my wedding, on the greatest guy I’ve ever known, for nothing. I just felt like I had to be sure, you know?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before carrying on.

“Which brings me back to Kurt. He loved his boyfriend, he said as much, but he wasn’t  _sure_. There was something there that he was questioning, and every time I remember that I get a little bit of hope, false hope probably, that it didn’t work out, and that somewhere he’s waiting for me. And then I feel guilty all over again because a breakup is an awful thing to wish on somebody. I always wonder if they ended up together. He just…he wasn’t sure”.

“I know”.

The voice startled Blaine. He’d almost forgotten, so caught up in the passion of his monologue, that he was talking to anybody at all. And why was this man, this stranger in a bar, pretending to  _know_ anything? His voice was soft, and thick with something Blaine couldn’t quite place. He knew the words,  _I know_ , but he couldn’t find a context for them yet. Blaine looked up, confused.

“He wasn’t sure, but I was. So I let him go. And I guess that answers your question, doesn’t it? They didn’t end up together.”

Blaine’s head was beginning to spin. Had he really drunk so much that he was losing all grip on reality? Something Was Happening, Blaine could feel it, but he had no concept of what. He closed his eyes, braced himself. Opened them. Looked at the barman, who was extending a hand.

“Blaine, right?”

Blaine nodded, and took the hand with his own. The barman held on tighter than necessary; smiled like he’d won a prize.

“I’m Sebastian”.

*

Blaine felt his jaw go slack, his eyes widen, his face arrange itself into an expression akin to a cartoon. Everything was happening so quickly now; Sebastian was clambering over the bar, throwing his arms around Blaine, dancing a little jig as he cried out “I knew it, I knew we’d find you!”

The brunette had finished her set and was making her way to the end of the bar, shrouded in shadows, just dark enough to enjoy her drink without the leering eyes of the mostly intoxicated clientele.

“Hey Rachel, this is Blaine” Sebastian called in her direction, and Blaine had  _thought_  she was familiar, but it was only now he realized why; he’d watched her perform, spent an evening in her apartment.

“Nice to meet you Blaine” she said, uninterested, not even looking up.

“No, Rachel” Sebastian said, and there was something in his voice that made her look up, made her meet his eyes with hers.

“This is  _Blaine_ ” he repeated, and there was a look of recognition, a squeak of surprise, and the girl, Rachel, was crossing the bar in strides, throwing her arms hard around Blaine, crying real tears in to his neck.

“Of all the bars in Manhattan, Blaine…” she said, holding him at arms length, taking in his eyes, his smile, his face, pulling him roughly back to her chest.

“All those thousands of bars, and you chose this one…”

And then “We have to call Kurt”, and in the space of five words, Blaine was suddenly  _terrified_.

*

Kurt was mid-way through a face mask when the phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, but seeing Sebastian’s name on the caller display told him that wasn’t wise. His ex-boyfriend had a certain tendency to over-react. Ignoring a phone call could result in the cops kicking the door down, the fire department being sent out, any number of other crazy things. Kurt grabbed the phone.

“I’m fine, Seb. I told you…”

“I-think-you-should-come-for-a-drink” Sebastian blurted, cutting Kurt off.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“To the bar. I think you should come for a drink. At the bar.”

“Yes, I got the ‘at the bar’ part Seb, but I’m honestly fine…” Kurt’s voice was confused. Sebastian was just trying to help, he knew, but he was pretty sure he’d been convincing when he said he needed some time alone.

“Kurt…” he said, and something in Sebastian’s voice made Kurt still. He sounded full somehow. Full, and on the verge of cracking, all at once.

“What’s happened?” Kurt asked, and he had no idea why but his eyes began to prickle with tears.

“We found him”.

Kurt knew immediately that it was true. The burn became a release, and the first tear cascaded quickly down his cheek, caught on his top lip, and was gone before he realized he was crying.

“I’m on my way” he choked out, and his voice was thick with tears.

“You ok?” Sebastian asked, and Kurt inhaled, and smiled although Sebastian couldn’t see him, and said “Yes”.

*

“He’s on his way” Sebastian announced, and Rachel took Blaine’s hand, squeezed, asked “Are you ready?”

“No” Blaine admitted, and then “Yes…I’ve been ready for a long time, but I only realized tonight”.

“He should be here within the hour,” Sebastian said, and suddenly Blaine needed some air. It was…a lot.

“I just need to walk for a second. Just in to the park, just for a second.” he said, pushing himself off of the bar stool.

“I’ll come back, I promise”.

Sebastian looked wary, but he nodded.

“He’s on his way,” he repeated, and Blaine’s heart swelled.

“Finally”.

*

There is a moment.

Everything seems slower, and shrouded somehow in clouds, and mist, and magic. Your jaw might drop, or your head might feel foggy, and you have to force yourself to stop, and breathe; centre yourself, root your feet a little more firmly to the ground.

And then the haze dissipates and everything is clear, like it wasn’t before, but you didn’t even realize. Everything is clear, now.

You can forget the heaviness of five minutes before; forget the tension you didn’t even notice until it was gone. Something is lifting, and something is shifting, and the stars are bright and shocking, because stars in the city are rare.

This is so rare.

Because now there are stars. And there is a moment.

Blaine was still drunk, that was doubtless, but the cold air and the wind hitting the ice of the Woolman rink were sobering as he wandered without thinking towards the bench where he and Kurt had talked. It seemed as if an entire lifetime had passed since that night. Since they’d shared favorite songs, and secrets, and each other, without revealing any details at all. Since the first minute among thousands that followed where they had loved each other, just a bit, maybe without even knowing.

 “I just need a minute” Blaine spoke aloud, although nobody was around to hear him. Just a minute, he thought, and then he’d go back to the bar, and Kurt would be waiting, and after that there would be  _no more_  moments alone. That was something Blaine  _knew_. If he went back to the bar, and if Kurt was there, and if they felt the same way, Blaine as a single entity would cease to exist. They would become Blaine-and-Kurt, or Kurt-and-Blaine, and that was  _all_  he wanted, but it was huge. He needed one last pocket of time where he was just him. Then he’d be ready.

He was cold, he realized, as he sat down on the bench, and he’d left his coat when he walked out of the hotel. He pulled his messenger bag open, hoping for a pair of gloves, or a hat. He smiled when he saw Kurt’s scarf curled at the bottom. In everything that had happened since, and the haze of the whisky, he had almost forgotten how he had come to be shivering in a park rather than preparing for a wedding. His own wedding, which had been imminent two hours ago, and then nonexistent, and wow, it was true that a day made all the difference. Blaine wrapped the scarf around his shoulders, smiled at the cool silk against his neck. Breathed.

He was almost there. It was almost time.

*

“Do you think it’s changed you?” Rachel had asked him a while back, and Kurt had screwed up his face in confusion.

“Love” She clarified.

“ _Blaine._ You just seem so much lighter since all of this. It suits you Kurt”.

He had smiled, and let out one of those breathy laughs that meant he was happy. He didn’t even know if he  _could_  love Blaine after one night together and so many more apart. Had he been changed by a middle-of-the-night kiss, by he of the sheet music and hip bumps and excellent taste in gloves? Kurt didn’t know. But he had changed.

He was contemplative as he walked towards the park. He’d altered so drastically in the past year. What if Blaine had no interest in the version of Kurt he was presented with now? What if he’d fallen for the sullen boy who had once been a singer but didn’t know what he was anymore? What if he missed the unsure man who had analyzed his taste in music, and kissed him in the snow, but who couldn’t define his own dreams?  _Tough_ , thought Kurt. That boy didn’t exist anymore, and that, in part, was Blaine’s own doing.

Kurt had heard the horror stories; knew that the park at midnight was almost inviting trouble, and that no New Yorker in their right mind would go in alone, but he wasn't really in his right mind. His thoughts were darting around, from excited, to terrified, from doing-this-right-now to going back to his apartment and barricading the door. This was  _huge_.

Everything was pulling him towards the bar, towards Sebastian and Rachel. Towards Blaine, who he’d said would come back to him if he was supposed to.

_Who had come back to him._

Kurt had to grip the arm of a bench at that thought. He wasn’t convinced he’d even believed in fate, back then, spouting words about destiny to a stranger with shining eyes. He’d just said it. It had just come out.

Now though? In Kurt’s eyes, there was no denying that the stars, be they skylights or souls in human bodies, were aligning.

He slowed as he got closer to the ice rink, smiling. Just one second, one look at where it all began, and then he’d be ready to go and seize this thing, whatever it was.

Everything had changed, Kurt realized. The only common factors in the scenario, same location, one year apart, were Kurt and Blaine.

“We’re the pieces,” Blaine had said.

Kurt was so close to finally completing the puzzle.

*

It felt to Blaine like he had been sitting there for hours, but in reality it was only a few short minutes before he stood. He didn't notice the scarf slipping quickly from his shoulders on to the now empty bench, didn't notice the wind rocking the branches, or how he stumbled slightly as he walked. He stepped softly on to the edge of the ice, prodding with his toe before placing the weight of his foot down, walking slowly, each step a new risk, a bit like love, actually. He walked until he reached the middle of the rink. He looked up at the stars, and wondered if it could be true that these huge purveyors of light, a world away from here, could align and change a person. Was it fate, really, that had lead him back to this place, and this feeling, and this man?

Or was it serendipity?

Blaine sunk slowly to the ground, sat cross-legged on the ice, and let his mind clear itself of everything. No more guilt about Dan, no more worries about Kurt not feeling the same. No more what-could-have-been. No more what-still-might-be.

“Be present”, Puck had told him, and now he was. There was just this night, and this ice rink.

There was just this moment.

*

Kurt rounded the corner slowly, the chill of the ice creeping towards him and flushing his cheeks. He hadn’t been here in a while; hadn’t been able to face looking at the trees lining the ice, and the bench where he had opened his soul to a stranger. He wandered closer, thinking maybe he’d just sit for a second. The bench was cold on the back of his legs as he sunk down, and he shivered. He felt something cold against his hand and reached out. Kurt’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the scarf.

He had bought it in Ohio, second hand, when he was only seventeen. It was the scarf he’d worn on his first day at NYADA, on his first date with Sebastian, the night he’d met Blaine. And now here it was, on a park bench in New York City, a million miles from the place Kurt first saw it; a million miles from the teenage boy who had saved and saved to be able to wear it.

He let the cool silk run through his fingers; wrapped it around his neck; sighing as he remembered how wonderful it felt.

Kurt looked up, and really, it could not have happened any other way.

It was cold in the park. The wind was loud, the air sharp. Above Kurt was a single star.

And there in the middle of the rink, was a boy, who had searched and waited and hoped, just as Kurt had.

He stood. He walked slowly to the edge of the rink. It was as if Blaine sensed him there; he looked up; grinned.

_Oh_  thought Kurt, and his heart was filled with clarity and light,  _there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever_.

*

Everything seemed slow as Kurt stepped on to the ice, and half-glided towards Blaine in a way that was far too elegant for a human being. He came to a stop within reaching distance, and Blaine had to restrain himself from touching, holding, anything to prove that Kurt was real. Instead he just stood, hands at his side, breathed out “Hi”.

Kurt laughed, one of his breathy laughs that meant he was happy, and Blaine realized he couldn’t wait to discover what each of Kurt’s sounds and expressions meant.

“Blaine Anderson…” Kurt said, his voice full of something that sounded like wonder, and Blaine dipped his head, bashful, warmed by the way his name sounded on Kurt’s tongue.

“Kurt Hummel” he replied, and then “Oh my god, hey, why are you crying?”

Blaine reached out now, pulling Kurt towards him with hands on his waist, letting them rest there as he stroked gently over the fabric of Kurt’s coat.

“Because you’re  _here”_ Kurt choked out, and Blaine let his hands squeeze gently at Kurt’s hips.

“You’re here, and I’ve been looking for so long, and so much has happened that I wished you were there to see, and now you  _are_  and I don’t know what to say”.

“Then don’t say anything,” Blaine said, smiling, dipping his head.

“Kiss me”.

He did.

*

One kiss became two, and then another, and by the time Kurt’s tongue dipped in, Blaine had lost count entirely. If it was still cold, they didn’t notice. The trees swayed, the wind hissed, and Kurt and Blaine stood wrapped in each other in the middle of an ice rink and didn’t notice anything but the way their breath mingled, and the way their hands fit, Blaine’s on Kurt’s hip, Kurt’s curled in to Blaine’s hair.

Kurt’s kisses were like a story, Blaine thought. With each one, a part of Kurt became a part of Blaine, and when they pulled back and Kurt said, “I want to tell you everything”, Blaine whispered, “You just did”, and guided their hips, chests, mouths back together.

“Were you looking?” Kurt asked when they finally pulled apart, lips kiss-swollen, hearts beating too fast.

“Not at first” Blaine admitted, “But then…yes”.

“Were you?”

Kurt lifted Blaine’s hand to his lips, softly kissed his knuckles.

“I was looking from the second I got in to that cab and drove away”, Kurt said.

“I didn’t know it at first, but I was looking the whole time”.

*

They were quiet as they walked towards the bar, both aware that there were so many stories to tell, and to start right now would be overwhelming. Instead they held hands tightly, and when their wrists bumped together and their pulse points touched, Kurt thought that maybe he’d never felt so alive.

They came to a stop at the top of the stairs. Somewhere beyond the door, Rachel was singing a song from Wicked, and the words about being changed for better made Kurt want to cry. Behind the bar, Sebastian poured drinks for the last late-night dwellers, looked at his watch, wondered where Kurt and Blaine had got to. Outside, Blaine took the scarf from where it was draped over Kurt’s arm, placed it softly around his neck. Kurt sighed, content.

“Do you believe in fate yet?” he asked, placing a tiny kiss on the underside of Blaine’s jaw, and Blaine took his hand, and lead him down the stairs, and said, “I believe in you”. 


	13. Epilogue: Just Say Yes

It took almost a year to discover all of the near misses.

First was Ohio, just a few hours after they met, when Kurt told Blaine he was supposed to be leaving for Christmas, that he hadn’t been home since July. It took a few more details, punctuated, of course, with kisses and  _I can’t believe I found you_ , but eventually they worked out how close they’d been, on a summer’s afternoon, to meeting again a world away from here.

Kurt cancelled his flight. They spent Christmas beneath his duvet, emerging only to raid the cupboards for some semblance of a meal, giving up quickly, settling for chocolate and wine and kisses to weather-beaten lips. They barely left the bed until New Years Eve, when Sebastian made a show of clambering over the takeout boxes, and the piles of discarded clothes, and dragged them up and to a party. That was where Blaine saw Trent for the first time since his wedding rehearsal, and that was where they found out about the concert.

The first fight came in February, and it floored them. There were tears, and harsh words, and Blaine screamed things he didn’t meant because he was terrified. Their insults flew back and forth until Blaine heard himself ask aloud “Why did I cancel my wedding for you?” and then there was only silence. Later, when they’d mellowed, Kurt found Blaine on the floor of the living room, back to the sofa, knees hugged to his chest.

“Do you miss him?” Kurt asked, lowering himself to sit beside Blaine but not touching, not yet. Blaine didn’t know how to answer at first, didn’t want to make it worse than it already was, but then Kurt smiled, and Blaine realized that the only thing he could offer right now was honesty.

“Of course I do” he whispered, and then, his voice louder, “not that I wish it was him here, because I don’t, not for a second. But I was going to marry him, you know? He knew everything about me, knew how I’d react at any given time, and I think I sometimes forget that you…don’t?”

Kurt nodded.

“You were going to marry him…” he repeated, and then “how did that happen, again?”

And so Blaine told the story, beginning with a concert, and two empty seats, and ending with Dan finding him on the steps of Rachel’s apartment, with them walking, with a ring and no reason to say no.

Kurt listened in wonder, as he always did when they talked about these almost-moments, thinking about how different it could have been if he’d walked a little faster, reached Rachel’s apartment a little earlier, found Blaine alone and waiting on the steps.

“Was it worth cancelling your wedding for me?” he asked later, when they were sated and spent, coming down together wrapped in a sheet and each other, and Blaine said, “I didn’t”.

“Hmmm?” Kurt asked, thinking maybe he’d heard wrong, but then Blaine took his hand, lifted it to his lips, and said “I cancelled my wedding for me”.

A few days after that, Kurt’s vogue interview made it to print, and while they celebrated, first with their friends and champagne, and later very much alone, Kurt told the story of a December night in the bar at the Empire Hotel, and Blaine made Kurt stand up, walk away from him, turn around and do it again multiple times before he decided that yes, it was definitely him that Trent was talking to just seconds before Blaine stepped out of the elevator.

“Do you think we were meant to find each other, all those other times?” Blaine asked.

“It couldn’t have ended any other way” Kurt replied, and Blaine pulled him closer, kissed him gently, said, “This story doesn’t have an ending”.

In June, they went to Chicago together for the first time. Blaine had periodically flown back and forth, always feeling anxious from the moment he left Kurt sleeping in the bed that had become theirs, always relieved when he cleared security to find Kurt waiting, but when he boarded the plane in June, Kurt was beside him, and suddenly Chicago looked brighter than it ever had.

They stayed at Puck’s apartment, and Kurt had screamed, long and loud, when he realized he’d been there before; that Noah Puckerman and Rachel Berry had known each other, vaguely, as children; that when he’d slept here all those months ago, Puck was on the other side of town celebrating Blaine’s last night as a bachelor.

Blaine introduced Kurt to Will’s class, and they took front row seats at their graduation concert. Scarlett sang  _A Thousand Years_ , and didn’t understand why her favorite teacher and his…boyfriend, she guessed, were crying silently throughout. After the show, she found them in the lobby; let herself be pulled in to a wordless hug. Later, Blaine told her she was going to be an amazing performer, and meant it. Later still, she noticed Kurt’s scarf, flipped it where it rested on his neck, saw the name on the tag and let out a long “ohhhh”. They told her the whole story, and she filled them in on yet another part they hadn’t known. She’d been wearing that scarf minutes before they sang to Blaine the first time; he’d taken it, unknowing, almost a year from here.

It could have been so different.

In September, they had a party, and that was when Kurt met Cooper for the first time. He recognized Rachel first, asking Blaine in hushed tones what the obnoxious girl from his flight ( _and how did he even remember that?_  Blaine wondered), was doing at his brother’s party?

“She’s Kurt’s best friend” Blaine had said, and then “And she isn’t obnoxious, really, once you get to know her”, and then Cooper looked again at Kurt, clapped a hand to his mouth, said “Oh woah…you were there too…”.

It overwhelmed Kurt to think that it wasn’t just them. Their families, their friends, their lives had become tangled in each other so many times, and they were still learning how. What they had felt bigger, in these moments, than boy meets boy.

And when they kissed, Kurt thought, maybe the universe smiled.

Maybe she let out a long breath, deep and full of relief that these two people, who were so clearly supposed to be together, had bypassed the masses of  _not here,_ and  _not now_  and  _not yet_  that she had thrown in their path, and they had found their place, their time, their moment.

And there they both were.

If either one of them had given up, the story may never have reached this point.

If Sebastian had gone with Kurt to the concert, maybe they would have stayed in the bubble they pretended was love, and Kurt would never have begun searching at all.

If Dan had never returned the music, such a loving gesture on a freezing cold December morning, maybe Blaine would have exiled it to the back of the wardrobe, eventually forgotten it was there, but all the while knowing Kurt could not find him.

If Finn, who knew nothing about fashion or design, hadn’t noticed that Kurt was creating something beyond lines in a sketchbook, maybe Kurt would have given up, thrown himself in to his studies at NYADA, never have needed a change of state to reunite him properly with Rachel.

If Kurt had never left in a hurry, the wrong music in his hand.

If Blaine had never walked out on his own wedding.

Blaine, who was street maps and sheet music.

Kurt, who was coffee and scarves.

The two of them together, who were fate and destiny, stars and souls. Serendipity.

And then it was Christmas again, and Kurt was dragging Blaine, hand in gloved hand, down 34th street in the snow, and how had Kurt Hummel ever thought he didn’t  _love_  this? Their boots crunched, leaving imprints behind them, two footsteps side by side saying  _we were here_ , and even when another coat fell and erased their tracks entirely, they’d exist still in the memories of the passers by who had seen the two boys holding hands, and suddenly understood love.

They bought gloves, identical pairs, leather and velvet mingling so beautifully that Blaine couldn’t decide between wearing his own, or letting his bare hand hold Kurt’s, stroking the leather, basking in the weight of their tangled fingers.

From Macy’s, they returned to the coffee shop, and although Kurt hated the thought of a medium drip, he indulged Blaine’s idea that they should swap orders, should taste their drinks of choice only on each other’s lips. There were a lot of kisses.

They walked, in no rush at all, happy to take the whole day one step at a time.

They talked about the past as they walked through Times Square. Blaine said he’d been losing himself, slow but sure, before a scarf and a reunion, and Kurt teased that as long as he had Katy Perry and Sara Bareilles, he could never be lost.

At 57th street, they passed a street vendor selling knock-off handbags, and the conversation tripped away from the past and in to the present. Kurt’s line had been a resounding success, and the initial show had been followed with commissions, and catwalks, and a whole lot more designs inspired by finding what you were looking for, and resolution, and always Blaine.

At Columbus Circle, because it was already in every word they spoke, they talked about love.

“What do you think would have happened?” Blaine asked, “If we’d never found each other”, and Kurt was silent for a second, and then a few more, before he answered, “We were always going to. It was the only way”.

The light was beginning to change as they walked towards the ice rink, and as it came in to view, they looked at each other, smiled, Kurt to Blaine and then back. They took their positions on the bench that had become somewhat holy ground, and as Kurt sighed, and let himself relax back in to Blaine’s chest, Blaine began to speak.

“When I met you, I was scared”, Blaine began, and Kurt twisted, just slightly, to look at his boyfriend as he spoke.

“I was constantly worrying that Dan would leave me, or I’d realize I wasn’t as talented as I’d assumed, and all of the good things in my life would come crashing down around me and leave me alone”.

Kurt smiled. He knew this story.

“And then I met a boy in a department store, who would have been so  _beautiful_  if only he’d smile. We grabbed a coffee, and took a walk, and shared the intimate details of our lives without really saying anything at all, and then, in the middle of the night, as the snow fell down, we kissed. And my life changed”.

Blaine leaned in, stole a quick kiss before continuing.

“I spent the next year searching for that boy. At first, I avoided any mention of New York City, pretended I didn’t care at all, but then I realized I had to know, one way or another. So I began to look. I withdrew from my relationship, questioned everything I thought I’d known about my life, fought with the people who loved me most, all because they weren’t Kurt, who knew my deepest fears but didn’t know my surname. I searched and searched, and it looked like I would never find him. And then I did. And here we are”.

Blaine moved his arm from where it was draped across Kurt’s chest, slipped quickly from the bench to the ground, positioned himself on one knee as he pulled the tiny blue velvet box from his pocket.

“You told me all that time ago that you believed in fate, and I replied that I believed in people. Kurt Hummel, I’ve never believed in anyone, or anything, more than you. Will you marry me?”

It was freezing. The branches of the trees collided in the wind; the cool air hit the ice and ricocheted towards them, flushing their cheeks. Above them, a single star could be seen peeking through the layer of atmosphere that usually shrouded the city.

They didn’t notice any of it.

Kurt reached out a hand, cupped Blaine’s cheek.

“It’s like you said Kurt” Blaine whispered, “Just say yes”.

And he did.

*

This is a story about fate.

It is a story about tiny tokens that come to tell a history, and discovering things when you were not looking. It is a story of how sometimes, things get lost, and no matter how hard you look, you cannot find them; how sometimes, things get lost, and they are so far gone that you give up looking. And how sometimes, those lost things are people, and sometimes, when you pause for a moment, you realize that the person who got lost was you.

This story is about searching. It is about signs, and soulmates. It is about  _serendipity._

This story takes place in Ohio, and Chicago, and New York City. It starts with a chance meeting, and goes on to involve a silk scarf, and a printed piece of music scattered across states, and one remarkable night. It is a story of two boys who become two men, and it is a story of the ways that the universe works. This story, like so many stories, is frustrating, and heartbreaking, and romantic as hell.

From the moment they met, hand meeting hand in a department store at Christmas, this was a love story.

And it will always be.

* 


End file.
